Death drew lines in sand,
Boarders on grass and divides
Sea and land. But know
The scorpion will strike, snake glides and bites

A predator; not of ill-belonging, but of fear.
Birds float across continents,
Dolphins flow and follow the tide.
Exhaust all energies or you can hide;

Forget illusion of deity and rebirth,
Of perfection and redemption.
Let live. Accept and move along,
Move along with your only feet for as long.

The absurd, the faults and the strengths,
Believe no charity nor fate or luck,
Swallow dignity and hate;
Or choke on beliefs soon to break.

What happens now is up to you.
Rise with scarlet sun and high-sky blue
For not even language is absolute; it deviates time.
Grasp words you know, tell me what’s mine.

If I'm wrong, I die.
I cease to exist.
But I know what it's like not to exist.
Or at least I can imagine.

I didn't exist before I did.
For billions of years.
And Mark Twain was right.
It didn't bother me in the slightest.

But I'll give it a chance.

I will read Awake!
And I'll visit the Hall.
And I'll use your name for God.
Jehovah.

But what if you're wrong?
You feel joy, love, peace.
Meaning, purpose, certainty.
Those things elude me.

But what else?
Fear? Guilt? Isolation?
A hatred that you call pity?
Those things are beyond my reach.

An education cut short?
A marriage too long?
"Don't talk to her.
It's for her own good."

What if it's not?

There will always be people trying to hurt you.
It's easier when they have God on their side.

"Two eyes saw this, but two others did not.
I'll take my reward now.
Did I mention I'm good with kids?"

What if you're wrong?

Sure, your Tower is tall.
It dwarfs my cathedral.
And it does.
I stand in awe.

Your Tower is tall.
It Watches all things.
And it does.
But is it tall enough to see Clearwater?

You know, Celebrity Centers and personality tests.
Cruise and Travolta.
Your names are different: Michael Jackson and Prince.
But the songbook is the same.

Leadership is accountable to no one.
Dissent is a **** that must be eliminated.
The world is out to get you.
And critical thinking is a trap.

Families are vital (until they aren't).
Our authority will not be questioned.
We make no mistakes.
But we do become more perfect over time.

"But it's not 'disconnection,' it's disfellowship.
And they're not 'suppressives,' they're apostates.
And we live in no bubble.
But we'd rather not debate you."

"Besides, they're new.
They're small and they're few.
They have strange beliefs.
That's what matters, right?"

But it's not.
It's not what matters.

And it's not in my nature to hurt people.
I can **** when it's justified.
But I don't know that this is justified.

And consider the life of a poor, worldly soul.
Fear is no friend.
Guilt is a memory.
(Guilt for things that warrant no guilt.)

We see the world as it is.
Science is no threat.
Solitude is a choice, not a lesson.

Education is full.
Abuse is reported.
Families talk.

We are slaves to no Slave.

Of course these things are foreign to you.
Your book precludes them.
And your book is infallible.
But so are all the others.

So thank you for visiting, but I'm hedging my bets.
I wish you the best, but I'd rather take death.

Karmic omissions saturate the spell
Of which was deserted eons ago
Left overtaken by virulent vines
Seething from how the Almighty's sun shines
They seek to confront everything they can
Within the rhythms of algorithms
In a most preposterous way in day
For the absolute lack of its match
To their steely visions of humdrum
So now, it is finally up to us
To play the now vacant, coveted ***
Our dear God was, before He took the bus

I am the universe.

I’ve died a handful of times
Yet somehow resurrect each morning
Every nightly loss of consciousness
A sour taste of what awaits.


From where I have come
I will inevitably return
A change of state
Galvanized by time.

Deconstructing, dissipating
Reshuffling, rearranging
From infinity to solid and then back
To infinity once more.

The universe is me.

I am abstract, not concrete
A hologram self
A bundle of dying and newborn cells
Held together by the stars.

Not planetary, but nebulous
A dark matter beyond the grasp of my
Quarter century old mind
Materialized from 140 million centuries past
And an eternity to come.

I am the universe.
The universe is me.
There is no death in forever.

It’s a different world underneath this steeple
Church doors swinging open
To a congregation of cruel people
Black ink on a page tells me I’m evil
Condemning sermons broke my soul
You preach “God is love” yet remain hateful

Without end, my soul screamed from inside
While everything you command of me forced me to lie
You demanded so I tried
But lost the fire in my eyes
With every day that I pretended
Another piece of me died

Your reputation and position no longer matter here
I was never enough for you in those miserable years
Secret journal pages wrinkled by tears
Scribbled confessions in cursive, words you’d never hear
Paranoid that I’d injure your career
My parents and Hell were my two greatest fears

You use smoke and mirrors to hide your pretension
Force feed your religion through cold condescension
Wearing a mask
You put on an act
Then exit stage left
Ignoring your own lesson

Behind closed doors
You wage your secret war
In your church congregation
You’re trusted and adored
But come home with your pride
Lay your costume to the side
Take a break from the lies
Abuse safely hidden from tithe-payers eyes

Your narcissism and contempt
The reigns you pull from making amends
Years of servitude ill-spent
I’ve forgiven but you still resent
Dust covered Bibles and empty prescriptions
Remnants of misery-fueled bad decisions
You study verses on love and acceptance
Never practiced but quoted in sermons

No book or religion is worth the price of a life
My own strength was all that kept me alive
By walking away and breaking all ties
I reignited the fire behind these green eyes

It's always two minutes to midnight,
and we're always in the Garden of Gethsemane.  
I don't remember when
moonlight started to burn like this, but
it seems like this is all there is, maybe all
there ever was, ever will be.
The brain has never felt more like
spoiling meat, nor the excoriated soul itself
more reassuringly transient,
as we dance these slow, sad waltzes
with mute, irradiated ghosts
beneath the branches of the doveless olive trees.
The night is sharp with splinters and iodine
and other traumas.  Muffled voices, raised
in song: listen! they are singing inside
the fallout shelters.   Ash drifts like
apple blossom.  Wolf skeletons relearn the
ability to howl.  Everything we fear
is inevitable.  Much of it has
already happened.  And maybe tomorrow
won't bring betrayal, crucifixion or torture, just
something else,
something like agony,
I guess.

When our battle comes from within,
How will it be possible to win?
Our left is tearing away from our right-
How can we win? How do we fight?

We try clawing our way out of this hole,
But only effortlessly, losing our soul.
Lets fight to be heard, let's all scream-
"We need to wake up from this dream"!

Nothing makes sense anymore,
And we are left empty to the core.
Let's rise up from this pit
And tell the masses as we see fit
So all can become aware of the lies being told
To trick you into the mold.

They turn us into sheep
So we can make comfortable the elite.
There is no life in being a slave-
They want us to keep digging our grave!

And there is no heaven or hell,
That a big fat lie as well!
Money and religion go hand in hand
Making sheeple of every man.
Controlling you, and certainly not caring
If your life is worth sparing.

We have to wake up and realize
That our ship is being captized!
Teamwork will be the only way to save it,
That is, if you even give a ****.