tried, used to beat myself up dealing with faith issues

then i stopped making it an issue

there's trillions of faiths

mine is simple and ancient and real

and i'm so enthralled with its meaning,

substance to my being

value, nurture, truth, virtue

take a bullet for it

sit in an arena for the entertainment of the masses

if it came to be

mangled, ripped and eaten by lions

or crucified by human gladiators

or humiliated, thumbs down 

by so called caesars

for this faith

so that others might believe

and eternally live

now, in the past or later

human life span is utterly short

(ours is a young sun but millions of years old)

sacrifice my being

for my faith, i'd

take a bullet for,

no death wish, 

just love life

no compromise premised on love

love others, at least try

beyond my ability, 

love humanity

to the best of my ability

on a measure deemed stupid by the world's wise, 

with a love that doesn't, won't, can't, be

impossible to end

such is corinthian love, 

God's love, biblical

such are the matters of my faith

not fantasy, 

not surreal,

not scientific, (though i hold such degrees)

surreal to the world, supernaturally real

more real than reality

all things will pass away, but love will remain

love conquers all

love is all

this is about all, 

is all about what my faith is about

He stopped feeding the strays in the alley behind his house. 

Sun tunneled into shade there,

Leaving food rank before the cats could get to it.

It chafed,

Knowing somehow,

The howling at night

Was partly his fault.

He didn't want to matter that much,

The burden of proof in silent balls of fur

Expired at his door.

Midnight leaked it's jet black ink into the vast lake

shimmering slightly with the light of the stars soft glow

no help from the opalescent moon with it's gleaming light

to guide us along our way

but even so

we will not despair

for he knows where we are going

and how we will get to our destination

all we have to do is have faith

for his knowledge is greater

than this ink filled lake

we have found ourselves on

and will guide us with his everlasting love

Our God

12/22/15

It’s a song we listen to,

it’s a word that’s said,

it’s how beautiful we look today.

Oh the things that give us comfort.

It’s the tone of their voice,

It’s the vibe that’s sent,

It’s how our message is received.

Yes, the things that give us comfort.

We put our trust in things that are finite,

for a song will come to an end.

The meaning of a word, forgotten, and once a beautiful thing,

now suddenly turned rotten.

But what pleasure we could have if only we place our comfort in:

Something Infinite,

Something Majestic,

Something Divine.

My mother used to drag me off to church every Sunday. I did everything in my power not to go. From tantrums to fighting, I tried it just to avoid that one damned hour of church.

During those days, she talked a lot of shit on bible thumpers and the hypocritical, ultra-religious types. Little did she know she was one of them.

Me, being (and still am, mind you) at that feisty adolescent time in your life where you always speak your mind, did just that. I called her out on it.

"How can you force me to go to church but complain about other people shoving their beliefs down others' throats? You're a hypocrite."

I'd like to believe we would have skipped a lot of fighting and yelling and crying if I hadn't said that last sentence.

"You're not going to disrespect me that way," she'd say, "now get in the car."

Of course, I'd say no, she'd yell some more, and eventually we'd be haulin' ass towards church so we wouldn't be late (we always were).

The following weeks I asked her that question a lot, and every time she'd avoid it. Talk about something else, ignore me, what have you.

After asking for about the one-hundredth time, she answered.

"You know how I went to a sperm-donor for you and your sister?"

"Yeah."

"I promised God that if I conceived I'd take you to church. I know I didn't for the past eight years of your life, but I'm fixing my promise now."

That shut me up for a little while, but not for long. My family is known for being stubborn, and being a teenager on top of that… you can picture it how I was.

Long story short, I don't go to church anymore. I haven't for a couple months now, actually.

Everyday I wonder if this is real life, or actually hell and I'm unaware of it.

I wonder if my mom made a deal not with god, but with the devil to have me.

But every time I look in the mirror, and I see disheveled hair, red eyes, and blood trickling out the corner of my mouth where life, or hell, has beaten me, I no longer wonder.

My déjà vu tells me I've lived before this, so maybe god really sent me to damnation.

Well, all I've got to say is, if this is hell, I wouldn't change. Even if it meant I'd go to heaven.

I may be bruised, cut, and half dead, but I'm too proud to do that.

So, god, if you're listening…

I may be close to giving up and taking my life, but at least I can say I still haven't ever begged you for forgiveness.

And I don't ever plan to, either.

Wishes are for children.

Then what am I left with, as someone in the middle?

I may have lost all my teeth but my bones still stretch and my shoulders still grow (weary, with the weight of all you've thrust on me)

I once was told to dream to the moon and back, but now I'm expected to be all the shiny words businessmen like:

practical, and realistic,

and here-in-the-moment, without

dreaming with eyes open and running late because the sky was just too stunning.

I thought I loved the stars, but you told me I'll never reach them.

I was told to put my faith in God and my fellow man, but those who would be my brothers and sisters and siblings have only stood by as the jagged edges and sharp points of their words spill the blood of their blood (my Crimson, one thing I can trust) onto cracked pavement and broken promises.

I'll put my faith in what I choose for once. Let them falter as they bid me come with talk of gods and men, of law and wealth -

I trust my sureness of foot,

and my goodness of heart (though my head sometimes has other thoughts)

I trust that each star and sun and moon

is nothing less and nothing more

than what I believe it to be.

Comprehending life,

understand religions.

Dealing with strife.

Forgiveness for sins.

Tells us how to live,

salvation to be dealt.

Your life you give.

Happiness be felt.

Before giving faith's call,

recognize a similitude.

A truth found in all,

research will conclude.

Love your facade,

your chosen deity.

Love people abroad.

Perfect clemency.

With message so kindled,

what have we missed?

Have we all been swindled?

Told how to exist?

Rectify

Deify

Qualify

Bloody buy

Angels fly

Never cry

Can't get high

You will fry

Never lie

End is nigh

Favor vie

Jesus guy

Heaven's spy

Don't ask why

These words bespeckle,

clear, conscious thought.

To right, you must heckle,

shirking shameful lot.

If God dwells up above,

forgive this bollox.

But I refuse to love,

told how from wooden box.

-Angel Fatale-

"This is the year where hope fails you." -Slipknot "Pulse of the Maggots"

Succinctly put Mr. Corey Taylor.

All hope is gone.  Damn it.  Can't stop with the Slipknot references.  Must be because it's so true.  Faith.  Belief.  Hope.  Humanity has stripped it all away.  We push each other to the breaking point.  We shatter one another's dreams.  We condemn before we understand.  Our own closed minded behavior, our inability to look at the bigger picture.  Our desire to be right instead of trying to understand another person's point of view.  We could have utopia if we could just get over ourselves.  But our individual narcism has doomed everyone.  The only hope left is the lies you tell yourself to help you sleep at night.  Telling yourself that you're a good person.  Telling yourself that tomorrow will be better.  And it could be.  But you won't do anything about it.  And God.  If He/She/It even exists, well, the omnipotent, omniscient has a pretty strict hands off policy anyway.  Your prayers don't mean a thing.

I want to believe.  I want there to be potential.  I want hope and faith and for everything good and right in this world to succeed.

You ask me to speak on faith and belief.  But I cannot.  Because they don't exist anymore.

On the high ridge above

I travel the path alone,

many seen on the road below.

The wider their path grows,

less and less their numbers.

I follow the few faded footsteps

that lead me to the end of the road.

The others never make it.