Praise to fright,
Out of sight,
I hold my light.

I hold it darkness;
Others see it as bliss,
I see something’s amiss.

Praise I hate.
Bliss, leave it to fate,
And none the better to crate.

I practice low,
To hold my light amongst flow,
To gather more to not show,
For what needs to sow.

I hold my light.
I know.
I hide the blight.
They won’t know.
I hide their sight,
For fear they woe.

Difference is the fear,
The normalcy that is clear.
For the light they hate,
The darkness full they ate.
I know their bait.

For my lights timid,
And For that I hid.

I feel like I am shattered glass                                                            ­                            
                                    ­                                                                 ­   
Splintered, broken, still intact                                                           ­           
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                               
Held together with resilience                                                       ­           
                                                     ­                                                                 ­     Straight forward no nonsense                                                         ­           
                                                                ­                                                      
You tell me I am too serious                                                          ­            
                                                    ­                                                                 ­ 
you don't understand any of this                                                             ­                                 
                               ­                                                                 ­                      
If you walked a mile in my shoes                                                            ­                  
                                                                ­                                                
then you would be somebody who                                              
               ­                                                                 ­                            
trusted in people & was hurt in return                                                        
  ­                                                                 ­                                               
was fed to the fire, charred & burned                                                           ­ 
                                                               ­                                                    
 who put their faith into backstabbing *******                                                    
                                                                ­                                                
held together with a thousand stitches                                                         ­   
                                                             ­                                             
walking wounded casualties of war                                                              ­        
                                                        ­                                                        
what are you judging me for?                                                             ­     
                                                           ­                                                           
I am a survivor despite my pain                                                             ­       
                                                                ­                                                        
  who's learned to never trust again                                                            ­                            
                                    ­                                                                 ­         
  Don't look at me as injured & flawed                                        
                                                                ­                                            
  despite the odds, I have stood tall

And so we're all familiar with those;
Autocracy, atrocity, fascism.
Whatever forms those take
And whatever names given contemporarily.
However masked in any moment.
Yet, here they still happen!
Yet, they still now occur!
It's almost as though
This species really doesn't learn!

Strike, strike, the judges’ night!
Strike, strike, the eternal fight!
Man’s dust claims the starry light.

Seven sins, but hollow shells,
Humanity falters, yet still it dwells.
Wrath’s no sin, though hearts it swells.

Anger of man, a tide of woe,
Must rise, must break, its truth to show.

What is just? God’s searing blight.
What is true? The hammer’s might!

Strike, strike, the heavens’ spike!
Death’s grim laugh, a burdened hike.
Wrath’s deep truth defies the sin,
A forbidden spark, the soul’s own inn.

God spares fools who claim their right,
No judgment falls on fleeting dust.
Eternity’s court sustains the fight
Wrath for choice, for righteous ******!
Wrath’s the forge where hammers sing,
Strike Apollyon’s cursed wing!

Shatter hope that dares to fade,
Let nightmares bleed, let dawn invade.
A seed of grace, the holy blade
Wrath’s fierce will, the heart’s own quill,
Writes redemption’s fire until
The unending night is judged, is still.

Be good for the all-knowing overhead light, the nascent
Hole in the sky – the aperture of a camera with a stuttering flash
For any cheek turned the wrong way. Must

Be good to be impervious to the shake of our big hands,
Like snakes caught in their own tail; to be
Impersonal as a hairpiece on the skull, flapping against the amygdala
With unimaginable force, like a door-knocker.

Answer in a ridiculous costume to insult the salesmen of sobriety,
Scuttling like roaches, whispering jokes to break one’s heart.
They sting like thumbtacks from below the knee.

Stuck, enclosed in a glass jar.
Child-like, naked, incapable;
Round and round in circles, longing to move forward.
Freedom the babe craves, dreaming to be the One who opens the lid.
Observable to the judging onlookers,
Such power was relinquished.

Peace comes with surrender or destruction
Peace comes with restraint by greater powers
Powers ordained from on high for peace

But cowardly harlots wooing kings for profits
That such powers now impotent and abused
The heavenly decree profaned and corrupted

Peace is at an end, peace no more on earth
So too goodwill and favour abrogated
And judgements come, the book of life closed

Don’t condemn me for something you too did.
What makes you any better?

Who are you to judge the equally guilty person?
And in what right mind should I trust that your opinions aren’t based on unjust bias?

You judge Eve for have eaten the forbidden fruit,
but wouldn’t you too?

You’re no better at being human than me.
Or the homeless guy on the street,
or the slave you so claim worthy to keep.

Your judgement should be taken as a grain of salt,
almost worthless.
Because you’re no better than the murderer,
the thief,
or the saint.

This is where the like of morality blurs,
because if I’m not a good judge,
who is?

Who is the one worthy to judge?
Truthfully…
no one.
No human or animal is cleansed or perfect.

But one whom clearly understands the laws,
and upholds them
is truthful.
Not perfect,
but sufficient.

But on a wider spectrum,
true judgement upholds moral values.
But no one has the same values.

The most important thing when it comes to righteousness
is a diverse and open mind.
Able of taking in different perspectives and opinions
and slow to react with anger or bitterness.

Realistically though only a few handful of individuals can classify themselves under these conditions.
Because as humans it is as natural to judge than it is to eat.

Am I trying to justify it?
No.
And in no way am I trying to uphold or encourage it.
Yet, I am recognizing it.
Because as much as I wish it weren’t,
it’s the dark side of being human.
Or at least one of the many parts.

Maybe living in peace means living without judgement,
but if that’s the case
I guess humans live pretty agitated lives.