A regal nose leads down to luscious lips
A tiny waist yields to imperial hips
The wasp-like figure zips past, fairy-fast
And leaves him dangling in her wake, aghast.

"Like young deer on the mountain-top" says he,
"They rise and fall as shivers come to me.
They rack my soul with conquests sweet as wine,
And raise me up to lofty heights sublime."

She smiles gently; wrens tap tiny dance
Upon her gaze, he looks and finds his trance
Her eyes as blackened hazel, all afire
With love and lust and mirrors of desire.

He reaches out his hand to touch her own
As skin grasps pastel flesh, lets out a moan
As softly she caresses him so light,
Then disappears into the dark of night.

If the Tiber floods and the Nile fails to
If the overflowing mouth of Tamesis runs dry
If the weeping willow withers as the blackthorn breaks
And the regal golden eagle fails to climb in the sky

If the dried-up land yields a drought so parching
That the overarching urge is to drink yourself drowed
If the Dead Sea waters lose their saline flotation
And the carrion-grabbing vultures wheel in from miles around

Then Gethsemane's gates will crack open just a little
And the flowers of the garden will give off a sour scent
As their brazen roots recall the night when they were fed with blood
Dripping softly on the hallowed ground of dying man's lament

If the water rises slowly and yet still without abating
If it swallows up the chariots of sun and man and steed
If the kings step out and stumble to the grave, their destination
Will be broken, bold and cheerless: will be harrowing indeed.

"did she pray?" i ask
weeping gently, they reply
that she came, but slowly
softly stripped before their eyes
withered down so neatly
left her petals on the floor
in a pile so as not to
cause any mess.

But what is a full moon anyway
When you are not with me to fill it?
And what if philosophy leaks from my brain
All the time you're not there to instil it?

Can I speak my own thought, can I hope my own dreams
Can I tread on a path that's been torn?
Can I carry the mountain right here on my back
Or sit on it to welcome the dawn?

If I torture you first will you confess your sins?
Will you scream if I stretch you out here on your back?
Would you tell me such secrets I couldn't have made up
If I just ensure you have time on my rack?

If I save myself for you will you spend your time on me?
Your silver is not what I need at this time
But if you were to keep me wrapped up in a blanket
I'd come to you midnight like Mary divine

And I'd stand with my candle and call to the angels
We all would assemble the shepherds of old
For I know how you love to see men working nature
Freeing other young creatures from nightmares untold.

And when nighttime is over and my dawn is broken
I'll swallow my stories back behind my chest
I will remove the nails with which I had bound you
Roll back the great stone and lay you to rest.

oh, darling, don’t you want to be saved?

there is a halo in his mouth,
                                             there is a halo in the back of his throat,
                  and there is a halo carved into your hips -

you hate him for ruining you. you hate him.
                      maybe you were holy once,
but he desecrates with his hand around your neck, he says that his god is the only god, and you tell him “well then, baby, i can take you to
heaven,
                                                    well then, baby, i’ll worship you
and only you,
                                                    well then, baby, i’m not getting any younger.”

he kisses you again, he moves up and down your flesh like a car crash on the ten o’clock news, and you’re this close to dying, and you’re this close
to
               fading
                         away,
fading into the lines on his chest, into his mouth, don’t cut your knees on the halo, my dear, it’s not time for the sacrifice yet.

I look up to the sky as I'm on my knees with my hands folded.
''Why Lord? Why have you forsaken me? Why have you let your child suffer? Do you like watching me suffer? Why have you made my life like this?''
Nothing.
Nothing.
Just Nothing.
Silence.
I shed a tear and as it rolls down my cheek and hits my hands I think to myself.
''I'm talking to no one. I'm talking to thin air.
How are we supposed to know if there is a God or if there isn't?''
But then I think.
''Maybe I shouldn't blame him for my life being the way it is. Maybe it's all my fault, after all if there is no God then it would be my fault.''
I get up and walk from the field of flowers to my home.
On my way I keep thinking about it.
''Is he real? If he was real he'd show us a sign, he'd make our lives wonderful, he'd let there be peace in the world and make all things right.''
Then it hits me, some people just use God as a man to put all their troubles onto, ''Dear God, let my financial troubles go away!'', ''Dear God, let a man come into my life!'', ''Dear God, make my life turn around for the better!''

You don't get those things until you try.
We praise the Lord to show him thanks for making our lives better than some, giving us working organs, a roof over our heads, food in our stomachs, money, etc.
Not to push all of our unhappiness onto and ask for more.
If you're not pleased with your life then take a stand and change it.
No one can fix it but you.
Life is challenging and hard and at times people think it's not worth it to live anymore.
But you see life is the best gift you could ever get.
Isn't it?
Think about it.

It’s really shameful to acknowledge
the divisiveness of all denominations;
a continuing lack of understanding is…  
diluting Love’s message of Salvation.

The ongoing promotion of religious brands
has not convinced or impressed the World;
the wholeness of God’s holy Word must be
embraced by everyone, as His boys and girls.

These current disagreements and hostilities
of religious debates waste our precious time;
clearly a lack of Christian unity of beliefs
blurs the position of Faith’s dividing line.

Silly tendencies to argue, keeps us unfocused
and separated from today’s task of evangelism;
Christ died to unite us in fellowship with Him
and not vying for the best speaker’s magnetism.

Faith’s intimacy really permits us to become one
with God in times of quiet reflection and prayer;
religious brands are simply counter-intuitive,
reducing our effective witness of Heaven’s flair.
.
.
.
Author Notes

Inspired by:
1 Cor 1:10; Rom 16:17

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.

When I sit in awe of sunsets, contemplate the intricacy of a blade of grass,
Or feel the euphoria of a warm breeze on my skin; I know religion.
I have no gods or goddess' but rather I worship life itself;
The invisible force that flows through and connects all of existence.
That to me is true religion, no pageantry of glorified "holy' men,
Simply an appreciation of, understanding of
And connection to all that is around us.
The acceptance that we are part of something much larger then ourselves.