Not an Attack on Religion

I think disagreement is a healthy part of discovery. We can’t grow our perspectives without allowing them to be malleable. And I believe we can stagnate if we aren’t growing. But arguing is counterproductive to growth. Arguing inspires us to dig in and refuse to bend. Ironically, being presented with contrary perspectives may often lead to greater investment in our own beliefs. In spite the fact that I try to remain open-minded, there is one “truth” I hold above all others. I believe love is the greatest force in my life. When a religion identifies love as a desirable trait, I find value in it. At the same time, when religious perspectives are used to inspire fear and division, I do not find value in these aspects of it. At the very heart of many religious perspectives is the idea that there are a select few who earn God’s favor. In many incarnations of religions, those who don’t gain God’s favor are condemned to an eternity of suffering. This idea seems, to borrow a word from religion, “blasphemous”. That is not to say that God takes offense to anything we choose to do. I believe we are perfectly as we are and that no higher power could expect anything more. But rather it is to say that God loves everyone and, as the creator of all laws, is bound by no law to punish or allow punishment to fall on anyone. We are created logical beings. This world teaches us to expect cause and effect relationships. Therefore, to deny our powers of logic is to deny our nature. Ideas of Hell are illogical to me. Of course I understand my perspective is not absolute. I don’t have a perfect understanding of everything and think it wise not to claim with absolute certainty that I know anything. But I feel compelled to try to make the world a better place. And I believe ideas of Hell, punishment for those who don’t adhere to a specific set of beliefs or behaviors, work to promote fear and division. I’m not speaking from a place of absolute perspective because I don’t feel confident enough in any human’s ability to know anything about their world. But I am trying to encourage an open conversation. This makes sense to me. What makes sense to you? Can we discuss it without arguing about it?

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Terrorists

You inspire terror
But you’re no terrorists
Head above the law
Money over fists
The hill is a stage
Fingers spell out foe
Players in our house
On must go the show
Our brothers and sisters
Keep us in our place
Rodents steal our cheese
Lies propel the race
Body pile
All the while
Suit turns into suite
Plastic dreams
Pseudo seams
Rules help them to cheat
Break apart the bread
Stories help us sleep
Auction off our trust
No one’s now to keep
Now we dig trenches
Insulate our cells
Feed our dimentia
Fear inside us swells
Empty headed pins
Perspectives won’t shift
TV makes us laugh
This pain is a gift
Something’s wrong nerves scream
We pray, lust, and hide
Sketches of rivals
Recognize – divide
Body pile
All the while
Suit turns into suite
Plastic dreams
Pseudo seams
Rules help them to cheat

The Natural State of Things

You scream when I try to pet you, because it hurts to feel love
And I whisper to you I know how it feels
This life is a gift
On those days when love feels like a splinter imbedded in the skin
And pain seems the natural state of things
We could strive for enjoyment
But such an effort feels unnatural
In such a state, taking this gift for granted seems the only reasonable course
So tired
But this body heals itself
I don’t know I could ever feel whole
But I will continue to fill the hole
Understanding the right chemicals will soon inspire a sence of invincibility
So feel gratitude for this pain
It is pain that will soon contrast such great pleasure
So alive
I don’t know I could ever feel whole
But I will continue to fill the hole

“Man”

No broken bones, but our tounges are in traction
Gender can’t define us so it just defines our actions
Man-bun, man-bag, man-cave, man-scape
Man we need to teach all men not to rape
Because of this thing hanging between my legs
I’m enemy to those with unfertilized eggs
Being inconsiderate is gender specific
And you can’t be an asshole unless you have a dick
If you take up too much space on public transit, you are MAN-spreading
If you explain in a way formerly condescending, you are MAN-splaining
And some who look like me promote patriarchy
And SOME who look like me promote patriarchy

Little Flowers of Truth

This potion brings peace to the world
Everyone has everything they could ever need
There is only one ingredient
But everyone has long known what it is
The antidote is selfishness
Anytime this potion starts to take hold, resources needed to spread it run dry
Hoarding for the bigger
The better
The Mine
But still we try
Every day
Planting seeds that we hope will one day grow into little flowers of truth

She Has a Big Heart

She has a big heart
But it belongs to someone else
She recites a sonnet
And rhymes his name in her head
She laughs and loves
And I know she’ll bring that smile home to his bed
It hurts
But it is truly perfect
Taste of blood
Static medicine
Breaking bodies
Like waves on a beach
Years pass like seconds
And in the blink of these eyes
We are one

Energy Reborn Repeat

This life is wholy messy
Splinter veins and roots of a tree
Mother and child rip away
In our mortal hearts she’ll stay
Oh no
Oh yes
Pain and rememberance
Alright
We’re all left
Salt to the earth are we
This great gift of pain I see
It is so much more than me
Tissue tears and tissue meat
Energy reborn repeat
Oh no
Oh yes
Pain and rememberance
Alright
We’re all left
Salt to the earth are we

The Others

Magenta paints every wall
Every cloth
Every face
This is our tribe
They keep us alive
Pledge allegiance
Blind obedience
Loyalty
To anyone who looks like me
The enemy is every other
Disagree and you will see
Magenta teeth
Or just stoned for their beliefs
Shadows aim to steal our fire
Not left in the dark
When it spreads with a spark
But royalty
Says they aren’t like me
Magenta paints every wall
Every cloth
Every face
And crimson will paint every other when we deny the life inside
Special by birth or clean minds?
Scrubbing away all other residue with this cerebral vortex
And sharpened stones become a valuable technology

Cold Water on an Empty Stomach

My love
Come back to bed
The ashes will be there in the morning
In dreams together we are whatever we choose to be
But she cries milk
Eyes sore and red from refusing to blink
“What have we done?”
“What have we done?”
Whispers haunt my lonely dreams
And she cries milk
Sulphur twilight seeps in through the cracked curtain
Grey reflections in her dark pupils
From here, “fortunate” is a relative term
My eyes burn without her
But she cries milk
Acid rain
We sleep all day
Perfect pain
Eye to eye
She cries milk