Is God On Vacation Or Just Out To Lunch
Writings by Sha’Ra On WindWalker
(in collaboration with Sha’Tara EarthStar)
Copyright (©) 2017 Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing
Published by: Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing
Chilliwack, B.C. Canada
Cover pictures by: Top, Paul Szustka: Bottom, Clesio DaGama
All pictures found on FreeImages.com
Space Picture: ESA/Hubble
I hope you enjoy these writings. Feedback is welcome.
These books contain a form of free verse poetry, opinions based on observation, and some humour and imagination, engaging the heart as well as the mind. A critical look at many current issues intriguing and plaguing man. Spirituality, interaction with nature and environment, social changes, dwindling resources. Well worn issues now, indeed. But the poetry and other works in these books gives this subject a different perspective. I daresay that here we can find a “higher” vantage point from which to look at ourselves within the cosmos.
Who knows but some of the ideas in the books may get you inspired to do that thing you always wanted to do, even if this comes in a very small way, to make your corner of this world a better place to be in. Who knows but you may realize your little corner is a really nice place to be in after all.
It’s all about life, if at times expressing life “outside the box” as the saying goes.
Soap operas operate within
a world of complete unreality:
they form a blinding web of negativity
within those nurtured daily
by their poisonous portrayal
of false values along life’s path.
Every soap’s love relationship
is created solely for destruction,
always ending on a sad note:
a world without hope,
is the world of soap.
It makes me wonder why
they are called “soaps”
when the entertainment
“Getting into Heaven is no big trick:
all you have to do is accept
the gift of God in Jesus Christ.
How you live your life beyond that
is purely secondary, a matter of choice.”
Well, that’s what I was told one day
by an old man with a Bible.
So, I thought,
I can be an ignorant S.O.B.
most of my life
(even if I know better)
and with “God’s gift” in my heart
when I die
I am heaven bound!
(Who would turn down such a deal?)
On the other hand,
I can live my life impeccably,
be kind and generous and caring,
but if I refuse “God’s gift”
that’s just too bad
‘cause when I die
it’s straight to hell -
do not pass “Go” and
do not collect the $200 either!
There you have it: these are the rules.
It’s how you play
the Fun Da Mental Monopoly game
in Christianity.
Believe it!
Amen brother.
The God thing still eludes me:
what is God, I wonder
with all pretensions removed?
Is God a person? A concept?
A saviour? A judge? A creator?
Is it really the origin of all that is?
Everyone has a different idea
of what God is or should be.
Matters not if I enter a church
or seek answers on the street:
I’m sure to get an earful
of mega confused thinking.
Most people believe in God
but find two people
who completely agree
on what the concept really is-
impossible!
How about a narrower concept:
A God of love, perhaps?
Yet those who believe this
are often the worst offenders
against the law of love.
Is God everything?
Good and evil equally?
Is God separate, but in all things?
Is God apart from what is marred
by the passage of evil?
Is every intelligent entity
equally God as is now claimed?
Preposterous, all of it, I say
God is that which foolishness
has put forth to hide itself
from itself.
Do I need God? Yes,
if I refuse to live the law of love
or fail to live my integrity.
Being God is not arrogance.
but awareness of who I am.
Being God
is loving energies, forces, people.
Being God
is relinquishing control over creation.
Being God
is bringing happiness
or sadness – some like this -
into life: a simple matter of choice.
Being God
is the ability to make choices
knowing their power to manifest
exactly as thought and spoken:
God says… and so it is…
Abstemious, bicephalous, convolvulaceous,
digitigrade, erotomania, flavescent, glossolalia,
hebdomad, isomorph, jonquil, kyphosis
logomachy, malversation, nihilism, onomastics,
paronomasia, quidnunc, rudimentary,
semiabstract, traditionalism, unidirectional,
vaporization, whirligig, xenodiagnosis,
yataghan, zoophagous.
That’s a list of some big, BIG BIG WORDS.
I can’t spell these words,
I can’t use these words,
I don’t know why they have them,
I don’t know what they mean,
I’ll never understand these words
I’ve lived all these years without ‘em
got along fine with the little guys
and yet… and yet…I can’t help myself:
I SAVOUR THE AMBROSIAL QUALITY
OF THOSE GRANDIOSE ARTICULATIONS!
(d’ya get my drift?)
(the Laughing Poet looks)
What is the driving force
within the confines of a church?
The Lord Jesus Christ?
The presence of hell on the outside?
Or blood money flowing within?
Pretend you’re a successful evangelist
bringing in thousands of lost souls
within the walls of God’s churches;
suppose all they contributed
was a new found faith – no money!
how long before
they’re sternly shown the door?
If money no longer flowed;
if churches went bankrupt in the land,
would people worry how to upload
their daily quota of acquired sins
without access to God.com?
Would they feel a great emptiness
for no answers received
after months of prayer to a silent idol?
Would they feel a great loss
when miracles cease to happen on cue
(between commercials)
come Sunday morning’s TV offering?
Would their god shrivel like an I. O. U.
in a miser’s hand at death’s door?
Perhaps some would see
their own light shine in the darkness,
learn to say: there is now
none other before me!
Must there really be competitive sports?
Feel the scorn, the put downs
as fans yell:
“My grandmother plays better
and runs faster too!’
and let the ‘loser’
feel like a slacker, feel stupid,
let him become an outcast,
the butt of jokes and sarcasm.
The one who wins is the hero of the day,
but he too may lose, and then what?
Same treatment as for the other!
Can it not be admitted competitive sports
contribute to separation and judgment?
Can we not say they
breed anger and violence towards
the opponent… the “enemy”?
What’s this senseless need to win?
What is “won”?
accept all comers for what they are:
sit down together (after the race)
laugh about it all!
The one who teaches us most
about who we are
is always the so-called loser,
They say the God of the Bible
loves the people he created;
so much so that when they sin
or forget to bring him sacrifices,
he judges them, condemns them,
sends them straight to hell
to burn in torment for eternity.
It seems logical, does it not,
since he created them in his image
and can’t be but what he made them,
that he should be the one
to take first place in the fires of hell?
Some would say such a God can hear
when you say bad things about him.
I don’t think he hears anything at all;
but if he does,
he’s terrified to answer:
I think he’s been deprived of his old power
by an elite Cosmic ‘court’.
When we accept this simple fact,
we’ll no longer clutter our minds
with this sort of ranting and raving.
We shall be free within our own thoughts…
finally – Yes!
And Sunday morning shall find me enjoying
life on a nude beach. Blessed be!
They say God
is not the Genie in the Bottle:
He won’t give you three wishes…
Yet in the same breath
they’ll tell you that prayer works:
that God answers prayers.
OK, I’ll grant you that.
Now let’s get logical about this:
if prayer works
then God must grant every “prayer;”
if He does not
then prayer does not “work”
but becomes a heavenly lottery:
“Let’s see: who’s the lucky winner today?”
Since there is no reference book
to find out what prayers God does grant;
what He won’t grant,
then one must ask “Why pray at all?”
I don’t buy lottery tickets:
I figure they’re a tax on stupidity -
and I figure prayer is in the same category.
Let’s just say I’ve seen too many people
Why would God inspire writers
to pen “His Word” with double meaning?
Why not just come out and speak truth?
Say it in such a way there can never be
a doubt as to what is being meant?
I see but two ways out of this dilemma
of God having His way with man:
One: we destroy all vestiges of the Bible,
heave a great, overdue, sigh of relief
and live and love as we know we can
and no longer look over our shoulders
to see if “The Big Kahuna” is watching.
Two: we continue to give ear to “teachers”
who interpret the “Word”
as best they can, as best it pays!
But this method clearly shows,
there’s a leak in the bucket of salvation!
Some things get lost, surely
and meaning gets changed each time
an interpretation is handed down.
Or maybe it’s all the work of man:
maybe I should give up the carrot on the stick;
go to the restaurant for a decent meal
and pay the cook and tip the waiter
instead of the one who so boldly speaks
of multiplication of bread and fish
A cold Spring morning
finds me walking along the shore
(once more) and the sea tosses
after a passing storm.
I feel wet crushed stones crunch
under my leather boots.
My feet are dry and warm;
I am well dressed
for this kind of weather, and yet
I feel cold within:
cold thoughts tossing –
the cold grey sea is now at home
inside my head.
So I ask the sea:
What does it mean to have an ego?
is it a bad thing?
Why must I rid myself of this “affliction”?
Some wag I came across before
called it “Edging God Out”
and it makes me wonder.
Does having an ego
means I’ve edged God out of my life?
(In which case, what’s the problem?)
Or does it mean that when I get rid of it
only then will I also be free of God?
No more ego, no more God?
Ultimate freedom to be myself?
I realize many are really scared
to live a “godless” life –
though you can’t tell any difference
between the godly and godless these days –
pretty much one melting pot
of stagnating selfish ooze,
but apart from fear, what’s to fear?
I think I can figure this one out:
If I have an EGO – I’ve Edged God Out
to be “myself” and no looking over the shoulder
to see if I’ve pleased or displeased
some imaginary divinity.
Now I hope I can do the good
I’ve always known I could
and always known I should –
without justification or blame
Hah! I hear you say, heaven, indeed:
who knows what that means?
Who has been there and come back
to assure the rest of us that such a place exists?
Yet, I must ask this: If there is no such place;
if life is this and nothing else,
why don’t we all live the same lives,
experience the same things?
We say “hope springs eternal in the human breast…”
and I ask you: where then, does hope come from?
So, let me say this:
if humans lived a life of pure, blissful love
for each other, for all things making life beautiful,
wouldn’t that in itself qualify as heaven?
Why do we have to think that “heaven”
is necessarily some place else?
Why couldn’t earth be heaven?
Don’t get mad, don’t get upset…
its just a thought…
or perhaps too much of a challenge?
Why do only humans
go in darkened buildings
to pray at some altar
light candles,
burn incense
and ask forgiveness
from gods of plaster and wood?
Why not other forms of life
considered less evolved,
hence less perfect than man?
After much reflection,
I now understand this much:
could it be
these simpler life forms
only see themselves
as perfect in their own eyes?
knowing that God,
does not create sinners,
I envision a pastel blue sky,
a light breeze blowing warm air,
gently stimulating, softy massaging;
I imagine others like myself,
walking nude as in expressions of Eden
in such a beautiful world:
free and shameless.
While this beautiful vision
seems right to me,
the majority has other ideas
of propriety and moral codes of conduct.
Would not men turn into sex animals
and rape our women?
say the paranoid and neurotic.
Will not people defecate wherever they walk?
inquire the decorous and foolish.
What would protect us from the elements?
ask the fearful and the apprehensive.
I believe if people went nude
(on suitably warm and dry days)
becoming gently aware of their connectedness
to the energy of all things,
within the fragility of our human bodies;
walking softly on beaches, meadows or sidewalks,
laughing in innocence and freedom,
it would be but a short time
before the idea of wearing clothes
just to cover one’s physical nakedness
would seem quite outlandish.
I wonder when people
will choose to grow up and face life
as it was always meant to be experienced:
in a natural expression of who we are
perfect in motion,
unguarded in freedom,
perfect in choice
with a smile of love
for all things, including ourselves?
A belief
in a future
heaven
creates
a present
hell;
because
your thoughts
are trapped
in the
moment!
‘Word Mechanics’… are as a mindset pox,
restricting thought to only in ‘The Box’.
Those who choose to scribe free-verse
saying “to hell” with grammar mechanics
may find it greatly expands mindset’s range.
So to free my verse and say what I mean,
(and mean what I say) I say:
there’s them that’d fail you
in a simple driver’s test
‘cause you didn’t know the difference
between a spark plug and a transmission
even though your record shows
you have impeccable driving skills.
Mechanics are skilled individuals
to fix what’s wrong with your car;
they’re not your taxi driver,
nor the only ones licensed to drive!
The same goes with moving words
as with driving cars:
Poets, traditionally,
are much like the prophets in their day:
they observe their society,
record their times in verse
that others may take warning
or may find hope in the way.
I cannot imagine Michelangelo
painting by numbers… and
I cannot see word mechanics -
those who put words before meaning -
bringing joy to a world of sorrow;
guidance to a world in chaos;
love where hate still rules;
or expressing passionately
a brief moment of suspense
when the drunken husband comes home
to find his victim-wife gone forever
Sunday morning:
Preacher ready to dance and yell
a sermon so carefully written just five minutes ago;
cut and pasted from a year ago:
“YESSS! Praise the Computer”
One leg in the air, arms raised,
and his helper interrupts:
“It’s the Lord, sir. He’s on the phone again!”
“That’s the second time this week!
What does he want now?
Doesn’t he know what day this is?”
“He says he wont be able to make the service-
He wants to explain…”
“No more collect calls from heaven,
he can go to hell for all I care.”
“Well Pastor, there’s been some trouble at the exchange:
the board is meeting in hell he says.”
“Fine, I don’t care. I bust my ass,
I do his dirty work and he can’t even come and watch?
One more service for him and he don’t show,
I do the next one for the Devil.
At least he shows up, even when not wanted.”
The Preacher glared at his congregation:
“What are all of you staring at?
get on your knees and pray, sinners!
Yes, pray,
for hell is but a call away!”
There is a saying I’ve heard;
“If I ever see God, I’ll whip His holy ass”
well, I first thought that was a good saying,
and I used it a lot when talking to Christians:
I just enjoyed seeing their horrified reaction;
but the more I think about it,
I find it’s not such a great thing to say.
Isn’t it just more talk of violence?
of some deep-seated hope I can get even?
There has to be a better way.
I think I would rather talk to God;
ask him why he did what he did,
or if he did it at all.
Ask if the Bible should be taken as the truth,
or just another hodgepodge of information
from some other time maybe better forgotten?
Maybe remind Him that his followers
still insist they must carry on the old ways
of wiping out non-believing enemies
to get their gold (I mean, their oil)
as He so carefully instructed Joshua
as regards the people of Jericho
and all surrounding lands –
Yes, that genocidal thing the Hebrews
were to do for God at that time.
I’m sure if I bring it up diplomatically
He won’t turn me into a toadstool.
I’m not so sure He’ll be willing to listen
however… Sad.
What does
“God is love”
really mean?
Is it a universal ‘truth’?
Is its corollary
“Love is God”
valid?
Does love
come from God,
or does “God”
emanate
from the love
energy?
I got a strange letter in the mail this morning -
it said, and I quote:
‘Good morning, this is God!
I will be handling all your problems today;
I do not need your help, thank you.
So, have a good day, I love you.’
Well, I thought I was having a good day,
then I caught the flu – OK, so I can’t blame God
for a moment of inattention to detail,
but then I walked to town
and I lost my wallet on the street – OK,
so God wanted to give money to someone
I guess that’s acceptable;
but then I got arrested! Someone said
they saw me rob the bank on the corner:
I protested vehemently: How can I rob a bank
when God is handling my problems -
all day – He told me so in a letter!
I screamed at the cops!
I’m writing this from the psych ward,
a bit sedated, but hey, not so bad,
except for the restraints.
Thanks God, thanks for trying,
but don’t you get it?
Every time you meddle in human affairs,
You make a mess of everything.
Please, since you couldn’t even keep the peace
in your heaven,
(all hell broke loose up there, and don’t deny it,
I got your word on that one!)
can’t you leave us alone
and go love an artichoke, or something?
I know there are humans who really believe
that you care; that you love them -
kind of pathetic, don’t you see -
that whatever they credit you for
they did or didn’t do themselves?
Please God, can’t you get a life?
I look for friends,
simple understanding, even love
in the strangest places:
I’ve been to paradise and back:
I was given life,
not guarantees or promises
for none are needed, anymore.
I’ve met with the Goddess:
she teaches me simplicity
in things I deemed impossible.
I trust her, her friends
are family now, the others gone
and now, as Esther said to Mordecai:
“If I perish, I perish.”
A comment often heard
during a stretch of sunny weather:
“This is such lovely weather
why can’t it be like this all the time?”
But if I were to comment back:
“ Well we really need rain --
like maybe a month of it
the fields are parched.”
they’d look at me
as if I’d lost my last marble.
Amazing what processed food
has done to people’s minds.
Food comes from the supermarket
or from the commercial greenhouse.
It seems the weather
no longer has any bearing on this.
These people’s parents could still see
that if it were sunny all the time
the rivers would dry up,
the fields turn to deserts;
and without water,
what then?
I think these days
the only thing they’d worry about
is having to leave the “Seadoo”
on its trailer at the beach.
A kind hearted woman once told me:
“If we all lived by the Ten Commandments
the world would be a better place:
no more street crime, no more fornication,
no more hate or murder; no more wars.”
I thought, hey, what if?
The Man Without a Face whispered:
“Does love come harnessed in laws?
People try to live by endless rules
made to control them as cattle and sheep;
to keep them wallowing in fear;
to keep them from discovering
the true joy of shared freedom!
When you break down walls
called judgment, condemnation,
you set yourself free to soar
on the ever-changing winds of freedom
and your much abused world
becomes more like a place
one could possibly call home some day.
You still don’t understand?
Look around you when out in nature
and note what “commandments”
are followed by the birds and bees:
these you should pay heed to,
and let the fools fall on their knees
who pray to deaf and dumb idols
who make rules that benefit
only those in places of power.
Forget writing poetry;
they say:
accept our 101 ways
of making t-shirts in a factory!”
That pretty well spells common wisdom.
But… say there were no factories
manufacturing ‘goods’ (and bads?)
few of us need;
say there were
no enforcement of guilt and shame
(it’s called advertising and peer pressure)
upon those who don’t drive the latest cars;
purchase the hottest gadgetry;
wear the latest fashion joke…
what would there be?
It’s now imagination time:
Imagine
no smog-making factories;
no paved-over miles of vital soil;
no monster trucks ripping up the hills;
no towering high-rises housing fear
and planners of expendability.
Imagine
lush green forests,
sparkling lakes and crystal streams
reflecting a pristine wilderness;
birds perched in swaying branches
singing the rebirth of Earth?
Some may think
this is not possible,
or necessary,
yet
dreams possess
the seed of reality:
and such seeds create choices.
Which will we choose
When man learned to live in groups,
he had to dispose of his daily wastes.
Of necessity, he invented the shovel
and wherever he went, he dug holes:
some to gather water, some to defecate in.
The holes soon became too numerous
and too dangerous, not to mention
the ever-present odour wafting over
the little walled-in settlements.
Unwilling to accept the land’s offer
to let him roam freely from forest to plain,
he invented the out-house,
a place of relief and meditation;
a GIANT step forward in evolution.
(Had he foreseen such meditation
would lead to organized religion,
he might have reconsidered,
but he didn’t and he didn’t.)
The hole was dug, the house was built,
it’s use enforced by Official Statute.
Sadly, inevitably, the hole filled up
and the nauseous smell rose up once more,
so the house was moved, the hole covered
and that problem solved—out of smell, out of mind…
But, someone fell in one day and drowned,
unpleasantly: there was an odorous funeral
followed by a strike of shovel operators:
a series of problems led to the invention
of the well-known flusher: now man’s wastes
could flow directly into his waterways: yet ANOTHER
giant step in evolution!
Human life creates pictures
reminiscent of scriptural hells:
lust, greed, oppression and discord
clatter side by side, crash together
in endless dissonance…
We know, we know, we know,
life is meant to be free;
birds fly the air currents,
flowers bloom in profusion:
they do not hoard, nor pay rent
to the landlord.
Man is a very smart creature
so I was told in school:
he lords it over the Earth
yet lives in endless fear
of losing what he cannot keep.
Ah! Illusion; all is illusion
and the hell created disappears
when one like me greets one like you
with a simple ‘I love you.’
What is God? OK, Who is God?
Is there an answer to those questions?
(Religious interpretations don’t count.)
Does the universe hide God’s identity,
presenting as proof of credentials
(that such an entity exists at all)
the created “order” of things?
Finding a car on the side of the road
does not prove the existence of General Motors:
just that someone made it.
Ah but what if it has a brand name?
OK – what’s God’s brand name? The Bible?
That makes me laugh so hard it hurts!
Let’s take God as a trinity - pretty basic:
Spirit, Father and Son (sorry ladies, men only!)
One: Spirit that animates all things – including God!
Two: a Father who is the dreamer
Three: a Son – the created part of God’s thought -
the one who interacts with all his creation
in his dream.
Let’s break it down some more: gods.
Animated by Spirit, they come into existence.
Alone – so they think.
They dream companionship: a new world
(as big or small as you want it to be)
They project themselves into their creation:
The “son” is the inter-actor in their dream.
And they also observe themselves interacting.
Some “push” the dream, make impossible demands;
create rules of conduct, maximizing polarity:
these are the dictators:
you don’t want to find yourself created there!
Then, they wake up – the dream ends
and they go on with their regular routine:
for many of them, that means kindergarten…
Yes, gods are usually just kids playing.
Simple, isn’t it?
Day by day
and for so long now
I’ve been losing touch,
losing my faith,
closing my eyes to reality.
The morning sun rises
faithfully each day
draping the hills in warm colours:
I can see it;
I can feel it;
I can no longer touch it.
Caught, stuck, mired
in the daily unreality
of my world’s madness
I move about
like an ant without purpose
searching for my crumbs
like billions of other ants
and the crumbs dwindle:
Should I give up
this pointless chasing after the wind?
Should I turn spurn the hand outs
from hands withered by greed?
Should I walk away tonight
and tomorrow, touch the sunrise?
Warping out of sub-space
somewhere in the near cosmic clouds
I saw a sign that read:
Want to attain cosmic freedom?
You must kill your creator!
My heart skipped a beat or two
thinking I’d programmed my trajectory wrong
and ended up on Hell’s highway
but there was no burning sulphur
and no grinning demons with pitchforks -
just the usual flag people
in gaudy reflective vests –
So, I thought – must be cosmic graffiti
but it was too well done, too professional
and with a trademark logo to boot.
Had to be for real. And I wondered:
kill my Creator? Why?
Why not? Said the Voice
Who are you? I said
and how’d you get aboard this ship?
I’ve always been here… this is my ship.
Can’t be. This is interstellar cruiser Suave
(from Earth, if you must know)
and it belongs to my family.
Well, yes, of course it does.
That’s why I’m on it; why it’s mine.
I’m you, idiot. Why don’t you ever listen?
Me? What am I doing here… I mean –
Oh, never mind. What’s with killing God?
Who said anything about killing God?
The sign did. You did.
I did not. I did ask a rhetorical question
somewhat on the subject.
But the sign said nothing about God
it said, oh, just read back the tape.
Let me make it short and sweet for you -
and you’d understand already
if you’d ever learned to trust me –
all the sign meant was:
let go of all pre-conceived notions.
Let go of all not experientially true.
Let go of all belief systems.
Trust yourself only.
After all, that’s who you live for.
I’ll be fifty, come October:
is it so much to ask
for a little more time
out of clothes in the sun?
On my favourite river
in canoe or kayak,
paddling floating, spinning, or
swimming along the shore;
sometimes even with a friend?
Will it wear out the sun
to tan me all over?
Will my naked body crush the sand
lying there dreaming or
watching white gulls against blue sky?
Should I feel guilty
when I just want to be
quietly, silently wondering;
walking lightly upon the earth,
leaving but a footprint or two
in a muddy bank?
The beavers don’t care,
so why should your God,
your so-called laws,
or misbegotten morality?
Please just leave me be!
God promises, Satan delivers.
Ain’t it the truth…
I got a strange letter in the mail today,
it said: Hi, I’m Satan. I’ll be handling
all aspects of your life today.
I don’t need your help – just have a good day.
Hmmm, I thought, pretty strange,
but then I went up town
and as I passed by an unsavory hotel,
a young woman came rushing out,
grabbed my hand, led me to her room
and we made love for two whole hours!
Damn, that was good!
Then as I passed a bank, a robbery was going on.
Two guys ran out waving guns
and people were screaming as the alarm went off.
As they got in their get-away car
one dropped a suitcase full of money -
I grabbed it and kept on going.
Yeah, that was pretty good too.
Then when I came home around noon
my neighbour’s wife came over to my place;
she tore her clothes off and said:
I’ve had the hots for you long enough:
take me! And I did. She’s great!
You gotta admit, this guy delivers the goods!
Like he says:
if you gotta live in a screwed up world,
You may as well enjoy the best of it:
sex, money and… sex.
I’m sure there’s more but it’s still early.
In judgment sin is imperfection, but
isn’t it beingness in experience?
The whole creation by definition
is ‘sin’!
If we admit that creation is imperfect
(sin is found in it: vice, violence, death)
In judgment we must condemn creation
and that which created, which is called God!
For God created all things good
yet bad they went, then worse
so they say, so we observe.
But we’re also told nothing exists
that God did not create!
We’re also told that we ourselves
are but the pure image of our Maker!
Let’s follow this simple thought
to some logical conclusion
and see where that leaves us.
The people who wrote the Bible
never intended to demonstrate
this undeniable truth:
that God is the Prime Mover of Sin
yet no other conclusion
may be drawn from their record.
-Your witness! -
A child of autumn
in falling gold
and waning sunshine;
a bucket of golden apples
clenched in tiny fist;
a large black cat
draped on a tired arm:
It’s OK to see the world
through rose-colored glasses…
It’s OK to see the world
through the eyes of religion…
It’s OK to see the world
from any vantage point you choose,
but know this:
Reality is still reality,
and God notwithstanding
it’s up to me, it’s up to you
to make it a better place.
But don’t worry, if God is behind you:
He’s a master at taking credit
for all the work you do.
Ever wonder why a preacher
repeats his message over and over;
The same prayers repeated endlessly
begging, beseeching, calling?
If his God is that deaf,
perhaps he should be told
to invest in a hearing-aid.
Ever wonder why politicians
follow the same pattern, use the same rules
so full of sound and fury;
spewing out words which, when threshed
leave but chaff?
When you must repeat yourself;
walk a certain way, talk a certain way,
pray with hands just so;
follow strict rules of conduct
to maintain a semblance of harmony:
does life validate itself
within such narrow definitions?
I think man is taught
to stifle his inner voice;
to drown out his conscience,
giving a semblance of meaning
to a meaningless tick-tock life.
I got a question:
does God only ‘grant’ general stuff,
like faith, courage, serenity, peace
but can’t or won’t do specific stuff
like building me a home
where the Buffalo roam,
or putting a million dollars in my account,
or a parking space near Wal-Mart?
Ok, well maybe he’s on extended leave,
gallivanting in another dimension
with Miss Universe?
He packed his bags, slipped down a ladder,
snuck out of heaven
through an old black hole that hadn’t been sealed
and the last thing anyone saw
was a huge Cheshire cat grin fading out…
Or he’s holed up at the donut shop
dunkin’ and forgot about time?
But just maybe, just maybe,
we really are going it alone
but too afraid of the responsibility;
of the scary thought we’re in charge,
– no one else—
and we can really make this old world
a better place to live in;
a much happier place
without
you know who.
The dawn is braking in mid stride,
brakes are stuck, smoke arises
High in the mountains,
(those mountains are higher than a kite,
higher than I, I might add)
the sun’s burning a hole
‘cause of all that concentrated heat…
and the air conditioning has stopped
The mountains melt into a hole
deep into the ground it goes,
signals to the ant people
to come a crawling back to the top:
to them it means the ant God has relented
has come back to fix the anthill
give permission to run amuck over the ground
and once more, make a holey mess…
ommmm… scrunchchchchchc… ommmmm!
Across acres of lush grass lands,
in a place where the wolf is forbidden to hunt
(and lucky for the wolf!),
tramples the ponderous beef cow,
dropping its droppings where it pleases;
sitting in its droppings when it pleases.
We feed it every kind of hybrid grain;
pump it full of chemicals
and there it grows: fat, fatter, fattest!
To the slaughter house goes the cow,
dismembered but not disempowered,
it moves to the butcher shop and grocery store,
in time to lay sizzling happily on the backyard barbecue
and proudly preside at a summer ritual: family feud!
Your gut gurgles away to strike a balance
between beer and meat
and between mouthfuls, curses and meaningful gestures
at someone you think you know B but don’t,
you digest all those questionable chemicals.
Now maybe, just maybe, you die of botulism, or cancer
or something they haven’t got a name for yet
and before your beer is even flat
you’re peacefully six feet under…
And as you slowly turn to yummy food
for the creepy crawlies in nightshirts,
you see that damn cow you thought you’d had
chewing its cud in the moon and laughing
Searching for remnants of ancient times,
I came across a rotting wooden box
covered in sand and dust
housing a heavy, dog-eared book.
As I bent down to pick it up,
gusts of wind tore at my coat
as if to push me away from my discovery.
Kneeling down in the wind’s insistent pull,
I let it brush away dust and cobwebs:
on the book’s cover, I read “Holy Bible”
and realized I had stumbled inside a church;
a last remaining stronghold
of earth’s priestly class
of people trying to keep alive
their old concept of a sky wizard,
a god of error and terror childishly imagined
as living forever in some cartoon heaven
of slavish servants and angels on harps
of harmonies for no one to hear
but imaginings in empty, frozen reaches
of their mind’s shrunken inner space!
In that old time, as I must conclude
they had come to realize their god existed
but flattened between the confined spaces
of a book’s dog-eared mouldy pages;
prisoned from change within old wooden coffins
where a stale breath of air wafted weakly
and remained as still as in a grave.
A church billboard proclaims:
“When You Pray God Works”
Two reasons to call such a claim as false:
the first, and obvious, is stated clearly in their Bible,
that their God
(and they’re so quick to remind you theirs is the only One)
completed all of his works, in all their vast array,
on the sixth day of creation, declared it good,
and on the seventh day rested from all of his labors.
One would think that even ignorant preachers
would know this much from their procedural manual,
and their CEO: that he took early and permanent
retirement and that is that, according to the book.
The second, perhaps most poignant,
and most disturbing reason would be this:
that billions pray, every day, several times a day,
all of them to this One and Only almighty God
who promised to heed the prayers of the faithful,
and what do we see? A world so lost;
a world as much in demonic perdition;
abandoned, given over, enslaved to greed
as any science-fiction world ever described;
a world wherein licentiousness and murder are thought virtuous;
a world every day closer to becoming a garbage dump
and no improvements in sight——
this is the result of prayer?
This is how God works?
Or perhaps it’s time God’s followers realized
their God has at the very least an inkling of intelligence
and has become utterly fed up with mere lip service?
Their book talks of self-sacrifice to gain sanctification:
apart from some crazed suicide bomber,
Why so much suffering and sorrow?
Why the poor, the weak and the helpless?
Why the suffering of children in war zones?
Does God not hear their cries?
An old man remains alive years beyond his time
and a friend gives thanks to God
for keeping his body alive, if unable to move:
there, God cannot heal,
but He can use modern medicine for miracles!
A plane crashes in a mountain
and two hundred people die in the tragedy,
and I find myself asking – not “Why?”
but “Where is God today?”
If God can keep one decrepit body alive,
surely He can save two hundred people
from such a horrible and fiery death?
Surely someone on that plane
begged the Man upstairs for help this day?
Surely they were not all perverted sinners
deserving such dreadful punishment?
And so I ask: why save one half dead,
but let two hundred healthy ones die?
The answer lies in the question:
I don’t blame nor credit God for this –
There is a greater force, certainly
that determines the outcome
of every experience we face in life:
that also goes for “God” like it or not.
Science fiction or reality?
Space crafts propelled by phantom drives;
by anti-gravity; by the spice mélange;
by ‘warp’ or space-folding energy:
people traveling across space
from galaxy to galaxy
following worm holes
in the blink of an eye: here, there…
To many this is but science fiction
but what if some have lived this reality?
Experienced in pain or joy, the discoveries
brought about by living aboard such ships?
Perhaps there is a place for new paradigms;
for believing the unbelievable;
a place where we can safely listen to such tales;
intuiting where logic wants to stop us.
Here, we might begin to conceive
how we can indeed travel to the stars;
and perhaps infinitely beyond!
‘Tis said God made man in his image,
which included the gift of free will --
Is it so wonderful to have free will?
Why would a creator god grant such a gift?
Seems to me since “god” isn’t talking
I have to look at time and history
to get my answer to such a weird question:
Why did God give free will to man,
especially knowing what the future would bring?
Ah well, it’s quite simple you see:
God is probably the smartest inventor of all --
and he knew if he made robots
and they malfunctioned – he’d have to act on that;
he’d have to take responsibility for his machines -
either fix them, re-design them or destroy them.
But if he gave man “free will” it was the perfect cop-out:
whatever man does now is not God's fault --
man has free will and he can do whatever he wishes --
or so we are supposed to think…
until we stub our toes on the Ten Commandments!
Say what? Thou shalt not do this or that?
But, I thought I had free will -- that I could do this or that
and not have to worry about the creator's feelings --
so what is it I’m not getting?
Do I have free will, or don’t I?
If I do, there are no laws, and there’s no sin!
But if there are divine decrees, laws, taboos
and there is punishment for breaking these in some way,
then obviously, I don’t have free will.
Not a bad scam, God. And you got away with it
for many thousand years -- until now.
“Fess up: the game’s up. You’ve been found out.
You’ve lied to, and royally cheated, earth humanity
so you could set up a bureaucracy of religions
to milk the saps for all they were worth.
Thanks for nothing, God.
Autumn’s V-shaped formations
echo across the morning sky,
but on lakes and seashores,
gun shots shatter a fragile tranquility:
bullets fly, wounding, killing,
tired children who only seek a quiet place
to rest, to eat, to regain strength
for the long journey still ahead.
Some humans can only reason thus:
an increase in wildlife population
equates more “game” which means more “sport”
which their lust for killing brings:
they even have a euphemism for this horror:
they call it “harvesting!”
How sad man refuses to accept this fact:
his life is equal to all other
and nature knows no special children.
Which life is the most sacred:
that of a stone upon the river’s edge;
a blade of grass waving in the wind;
a gull soaring a thermal, a drop of water
sliding softly along the edge of a leaf,
a truck driver in his rig…
a king upon his throne?
There is no real difference, you see?
It is in understanding and accepting this
that life and love will blossom upon this land
as it was always meant to do!
To those who insist
God blesses them with their good things
I’d like to propose this:
Leave all your good things behind
re-locate to some Third World country
where poverty, disease and famine
are the order of the day:
will the same good things keep coming?
To any thinking person, it’s quite clear
only a very sick “god”
would condemn millions to daily starvation
while filling the trough of the fat cats.
Fortuitous circumstances,
protection by powerful military machines,
not God
determine who gets and who loses;
so it has always been
and so it will continue to be
until we realize our personal responsibility
Have you ever heard
when it is beautifully warm and sunny,
the complainers who say it is too hot
or too bright,
dangerous for the eyes or for the skin?
Then they add:
“We need a good rain to cool things off,
and get rid of the smog!”
But as soon as a few grey clouds
wander around up there,
threatening to do just that,
the complainers are at it again!
Now it’s too muggy and damp,
and when a few drops scatter in the dust,
it’s immediately too cold and wet
too miserable to do anything outside!
They can’t wait for the next sunny day
to brighten things up…
so they have something to complain about?
Little do they realize it is their thoughts,
bereft of the slightest hope or flicker of light,
that is affecting their world that way;
not the weather, not the earth,
not even God!
For always, our reality comes from within
and the mouth speaks the overflow of the heart.
It was evolutionarily inevitable
that man would discover the flush toilet:
no more cold walks and frozen buns
and tickling spiders weaving below the rim
hoping to catch a whopping meal…
though, on the down side of the ledger,
fewer moonlight strolls or moons exposed…
Now you sit and meditate in full cosiness
within the warmth of your gas-fired pipes
while the little fan above sings its merry tune…
Ah! the modern toilet, where the best of
devotional reading eventually finds its way…
Flip a chrome handle and the power of water
swirling in great vortices, round and round
sucks your wastes down the tunnel of smells
to the sewage treatment plant, the cave
of re-creation… or on to the sea of forgetfulness…
All is joy and harmony until the kid
flushes his sister’s hamster down the hole
and it gets stuck somewhere in the return bend.
Now you face the price of comfort: penance!
Either you disassemble the entire system
all the while threatening to put the brat
in the spot where you dug out the rat,
or you call the dreaded plumber
who charges an arm, a leg and all your cash,
to exorcize the throne and once more
make the blessings flow.
How to respond to those who claim
it’s not necessary to have an encounter with God
for all that needs to be known of God
is in The Book?
Pretty simple: imagine a family man
tired of putting up with family matters,
being there for them, paying bills,
responsibility for wife and kids’ well-being
caught in an endless variety of duties:
“Enough of that!” says he.
At the office, he sits at his computer
and writes a book for his family -
and he calls it “the Father’s Book”.
After several re-writes, he gets it right
and finally gives it to his wife one Sunday morning.
There you are, dear.
All you need from me; all you need to know
you will find in “The Father’s Book” and leaves
never to be seen again by either wife or kids.
The family struggles and survives without him.
The wife dutifully reads the book everyday
and makes the children listen also.
Copies are made and distributed at great cost and hardship,
amongst laughter and derision…
But the “unseen husband” becomes popular
from the love and dedication of the wife:
the children become interpreters of “The Father’s Book.”
Eventually a gathering forms around the myth:
the disappeared husband becomes famous…
Hey, here goes: I’m in the mood for casting
another blasphemous thought towards long-forgot Eden.
Please duck: I can’t vouchsafe for my aim!
They say the Devil was once good
until dreaded “sin” was found in him… Oh, my!
That’s a hell of a predicament for the poor guy!
Some people are quick to say that all bad things
are the doings of that nefarious fellow from hell:
(the Devil made me do it.) and all that.
The same people claim all good things come from God
(O thank you God, my payers are answered!)
But I must ask again: did not God create the Devil?
and that ‘sin’ found in him, who put it there?
Who lured the Devil into an unmatched war?
and who created hell? Who dictated pain and sorrow
and finally, death and hell to all in turn?
If I read my Bible even a little, it seems quite clear
God had the divine tantrum, and we suffered ever since
and the Devil became just another victim along the way.
‘Cause I’m told God created absolutely everything,
and you see – sin – is certainly something.
(It must be: God – and those who speak for him
make such a thing of it!)
Not only so… remember God created all things good.
I have to conclude that sin is good.
Make a liar of God: say otherwise… and don’t blame me,
I’m not the author of the Bible, just my own thoughts.
One day I asked a religious person:
Who created God?
Predictably, the answer was: no one.
It is generally assumed that “God”
must of necessity precede creation
since the title of Creator
is also ascribed to this entity.
Everything comes from something else.
That is how it is with nature.
If God exists entirely outside nature,
what kind of being is that?
How can it know anything about life
if it manifests outside of life?
Are we just toys or trinkets
in the hands of some cosmic child?
Are we mindless automatons
that some creators made to serve them?
Yes, I know what religious books say,
and I know what preachers add to it all.
And I also know what the results of their thoughts
have been on this world.
I have experienced the love of religion
and that’s an ouch!
I have had friends who insisted
I needed to be saved
and have my sins forgiven -
but discovered my ‘sins’ were less evil
than the collective ways of any Saviours.
Obviously – this is no big trick to know -
God is the Big Stick
invented by psychopaths to beat up
on people they are not able to outsmart
in the real world.
There are those a-plenty
who cling to form, rhythm and rhyme
creating their “poetry” from such -
and one must wonder why!
So much meaning lost
in silly attempts at embellishment
by wanna-be’s and lazy bees
to emulate the great poets of the past -
but is it only pride that moves here?
Oh no! ‘Tis ignorance, you see:
they have so little to say;
not having the gift of either
oratory or observation:
so they primp and pad and pamper
their miserable offerings
and turn to prejudice and name-calling
when someone plainly states
what’s plain to see
but requires a heart to say -
a heart, a kind of courage,
they, as yet, do not possess.
But time, my friends,
is a forgiving concept,
and good it is we were given some:
there’s always hope for change
as long as time remains.
When you feel
a period of “dumbness”
coming your way
to assault your crowded mind
and shatter your carefully laid plans,
don’t just sit there helpless and despondent:
simply go and buy a bag of marbles:
the cheap glass kind with paper colours inside…
then open your mouth wide
and stuff them in all at once…
As you see yourself acting
the fool, the dummy,
on your own little stage of life,
spit just one marble out at a time.
Continue to do this
until all your marbles have been
successfully discarded.
When finally they are all gone,
you’ll be like a politician
with room to spare in there
to stick your foot (or even both) in it once more:
Now you can be
pure genius:
everyone can admire your wisdom,
and some may even pay you
for being truly dumb.
(A word of caution,
if you follow this wonderful advice:
Those who fall on your discarded marbles
may feel differently about your so-called wisdom!)
Common people feel
they need Religion,
deriving comfort
from promises
that claim something better
after this life is over -
but doesn’t that in itself
scream the obvious about Earth -
that something’s very wrong
when creatures of a world
feel that another life
must be better than this one -
and does that not beg the question:
“Why?”
Rulers, of course,
find many uses for Religion:
it can control and it can move -
and undesirables or subversives
can be deemed to belong
to an “illegal” religion
so they can be eliminated – righteously.
Religious elites -
what hasn’t been said about them! -
are the greatest salesmen of all.
They excel at selling nothing…
for a very high price!
How big a church does it take
to sell a shovelful of hope?
Now come the wise ones -
they don’t need Religion -
(and for that matter
neither do they play
with politics or money
but go their own way)
knowing, oh so well,
how foolish it is to hang onto
the love of an absentee god
or to think that some unknown place
A bedridden woman:
she cannot move,
cannot speak,
fed by a machine
through a tube;
more than one foot in the grave.
The debate goes on:
should she be kept breathing?
Or allowed to die?
Then someone comments:
‘Err on the side of life
let God decide.’
40,000 people die each day
from preventable causes,
mostly from starvation:
has God so decreed?
Is that God’s will?
Only silence
has anything to say
on that one.
You see, it’s easy to find
God’s will in these matters:
Just err on the side of profit --
and Gods will bless you.
I am the one
wearing the white bikini inside that big rubber tire -
standing behind the hotel desk to book you a room -
turning your head when you walk down the street -
walking your children to the park every day -
singing with angel voice for your entertainment -
dancing naked upon a garishly lit stage for you -
smiling under a veil and holding your hand shyly -
spending days under the sun picking berries -
waving from the terminal as your plane lifts off -
standing at a bedroom window so you can watch -
crying silently beside your bed in the hospital -
winning the gold in figure skating and smiling -
lying down with thinned gray hair and gnarled fingers to die -
begging for mercy as you take her to the stake -
walking the bruising streets in the world of prostitution -
disappearing every day never to be heard of again -
lying in your bed night after night -
standing beside you day by day;
knowing you from the moment of conception
- yet -
remaining unrecognized and nameless
in a darkening and shadowy world
of un-kept promises and failed dreams.
While sitting unobtrusively in a pew
I heard the preacher say (quite clearly!)
“The Lord has spoken to me; He says:
you must all say baa! three times,
and bark like a dog twice,
while dancing on your tiptoes:
then reach into your wallet or purse
and bring out of them your hard-earned cash
so he can clearly see
the faith in this church still growing:
for he who obeys his master
will make it through the pearly gates
to live forever in his kingdom.”
As I sat quietly, doing nothing,
I was eventually stared upon by all
as if I’d committed some horrible sin
by not obeying the Lord’s request!
Well, I became fearful of consequences
afraid they might well be right
about ending up in that dreaded fiery pit
in the center of earth!
So I began repeating these mantras:
baa! baa! baa!; arf! arf!
and dancing ‘til my toes ached… ouch!
and pulled out all the money in my pocket,
even though deep within I understand
It is only I who creates
my own heaven and my own hell…
Then I woke up from this nightmare
and realized… that was hell:
the daily hell so many choose
for fear of damnation!
I have learned
the Bible was written by men,
not by some ancient God of the heavens
because if the record shows him at his best
that’s pretty sad!
I have learned no one is waiting
to grant my every ‘prayer’ either
and that’s why I now must learn to say:
“I have the power
to change my life;
to change the way I think
to change the way I view the world.”
And how can I do this?
I begin by accepting who I am
and not allowing others
to tell me who I should be.
I do it by changing my thought patterns
which dictate how I interact with others;
by realizing I am not above any other
nor is any other above me.
I do it by creating my own paradigm
and no longer living the paradigms
created by those who enslave minds
to do their bidding.
The lady dials 911-
panic: her apartment has burst into flame!
A recording answers with proper enunciation:
“Your call cannot be completed as dialed:
please check the number and dial again.”
She dials again: 911
“Overseas operator: can I help you?
“My house is burning!
“What country, please?
“Canada, of course: my house is burning!
“We have no such listing.
Please check your directory and try again.”
9,1,1: She dials again:
“911” came the Lily Tomlin reply,
“Can I help you?” snort, snort…
“Fire! My house is on fire!”
“Oh, would that be police, ambulance or fire?”
“My house is b…”
“Could you hold on a minute? The 649 draw is on!”
“But, my house is burning!”
“So? Talk to somebody who cares!”
Hang up, try again: 911
“Yes?” a booming Charlton Heston voice
answers.
“Can I help you?”
“My house is burning. Help!”
“I’m sorry, wrong number. This is Heaven.
If you want fire, dial S-A-T-A-N!
The famous “ten” commandments
(someone once told me)
are not suggestions, or even requests:
they are, as stated, commandments – laws-
instituted by none other than the Almighty God.
That being the case they must be obeyed,
their purpose fulfilled
or there’ll be hell to pay – and don’t we know it!
Fine, I say, believe what you will;
here I am, watching you obey these commandments;
watching to see if in some way you fail
to do all that is required within.
Never have I seen anyone keep these commandments;
not even those who claim to fear the Lord
and I can’t help but wonder
how well imposed “laws” really work
in any system composed of sentient intelligence -
especially when the record indicates
that the very law giver
himself broke most of them:
(and perhaps all of them, who’s to tell?)
How many times did God kill innocents
just because he was mad at a few?
The flood comes to mind,
as does the genocidal invasion of the “Promised Land”.
How many times did God covet,
boldly claiming, “I am a jealous God
who punishes those who do not acknowledge me.”
How many times did God swear
(to do this or that, yet did not keep his sworn promises?)
I could go on. But the point is made.
The so-called “commandments” are politics,
pure and simple.
If you make the laws, you don’t have to keep them.
I was standing on the highway
both arms out this way
when a car bound easterly
and a car bound westerly
stopped simultaneously.
The drivers were angry,
yelled “get out of our way!”
but before they sped away,
I jumped with alacrity
and discovered unexpectedly
my split personality.
How often have I heard people
tell me of their blessings from God
and equally often have I wondered about that!
I’ve been hard up for money at times
and had to work odd jobs
or find supplemental income in garbage bins
and other places where refuse finds refuge -
anything I could use, I would use
and anything I could sell, I’d sell.
Some would say God was blessing me
by directing me to those garbage bins
where useful things had been discarded
and there may well have been a time
I was inclined to believe that.
But I’ve also found money lying on the streets
and been told that money is the root of all evil -
Ah, then those gifts could not be of God
but of the evil one they call Satan,
for why would God bless me with evil things?
I’ve thought about this some more
and concluded that both are vying for my attention,
giving me rejects and crumbs from a crumbling society
built upon the dreams of two powerful divinities,
two powerful enemies; two divine and utter fools
who would destroy a world and everything in it
in their insane quest for control.
It's truly an interesting concept -
that what we assume are blessings
are really nothing more than bribes,
little ones for those who need little,
big ones for those who lust for power.
Of course, there is a simpler explanation:
I got off my ass and went looking so I wouldn’t go hungry
And now we’ve arrived!
We’ve come of age:
we’ve developed the complete sewer!
or as the Laughing Poet would aptly spell it:
the sure system… or the surer system,
sure, why not?
Now man’s excrement goes swirling away
un-smelled beneath the tires of his car
though sometimes gurgling happily
below his parched lawn…teasing.
No matter,
with the proper mix of chemicals,
a touch of time in a special vat,
a trip or two down a spiral pipe painted red,
up another painted green and pink,
the time finally comes
to take that final, long awaited run
as tertiary or secondary shit
down to the sea of man’s forgetfulness
where clams, oysters and abalones
gasp for breath on a dying shore.
Not a pretty sight or thought but
do you realize the System’s so afraid
we may question these destructive ways
it cuts down old growth forest
so we won’t go back to living in trees
and come full circle to realize
life is great, even without sewers?
Pray for the sick; pray for whatever
- prayer is a flexible commodity -
be sure God loves to hear more and more
simply because – did you ever consider this:
He’s under no compunction or law
to grant a single one of your endless petitions?
So, what’s He got to lose
if you importune Him with your begging?
He’ll walk past you, unseen, unheard,
won’t even have to kick you out of his way
as one would a stray dog…
So you pray “in the name of God”
and nothing happens for better or for worse:
doesn’t it make you wonder
when one dies from incurable disease or accident
and another in similar circumstances,
is “miraculously” healed?
(and I might add, in most cases)
- without benefit of either clergy,
religion, belief or faith? -
I’ve got a better idea of what goes on.
God looks at his Rolex watch:
“Sate! Its lunch time; I’m dying for sushi!”
“But dear, (says his Wife)
“there are people on Earth praying earnestly
for another of your miracles!”
God shrugs: “Sorry dear,
its been a strenuous morning;
I’ve got a board meeting this afternoon
and you know what Satan is like
(as a major shareholder,
he loves to cause trouble!)
Let them wait – what difference will it make?
I’ll keep the ones I want, damn the rest of ‘em!
Beside, I’ve got a smashing headache -
I was on the Cosmic-net half the night
with my financial adviser,
my stock broker,
my life-insurance agent.
These are not good times – investments on miracles
are no longer getting the usual rate of return:
curse those wonder drugs they found on Earth…
and I’m sick and tired of their silly sins:
street crime and sex, can’t they be more creative?
I need to find me a President
to jump-start me a beautiful war somewhere -
Ah, yes, my old stomping ground:
the earth “Middle East” is just the place
to bring back fond memories of earth conflicts
that make even cold blood move faster:
are they done working in the holo-room?”
Well we all know that’s silly, right?
Right? Right? Yes? Well, how do we know
that isn’t exactly how it is?
Is it not said: As above, so below?
Well, it’s how it is here, (isn’t it?)
so turn it around and what do you have?
As below, so above.
So I say, go build yourself more temples,
and set those pews, row on row,
mile on mile, set them straight and firm:
bring the billions to kneel on them
to beseech their gods all day and night.
Now enter the results in your computers
and have the intelligence to read them;
the heart to ponder them,
the courage to publish them.
Out of darkness, she comes as light;
out of chaos, she emerges as peace;
out of confusion, she orders and sets;
in barren places, she plants the seeds;
parched lands, she waters with tears.
Once she ruled upon this orb
loved, worshipped, understood;
once, children ran naked from her arms;
innocent, joyful, carefree;
Once nature flourished in her care -
Once – all was as it should be,
but that was a long time ago:
now she waits for me to reason this out,
to grasp life’s energy, the concept of love:
but what do I know of love
transcending all things, uniting all things?
Still, I ponder this mystery,
while in a timeless world, she waits.
People say it all the time
“Just have faith-
in God or Spirit or the Universe:
that takes care of everything;
now watch your life get better.”
Does it?
When they say that,
are they not saying they are powerless
to change their life?
Hoping someone else will do it?
Are they not saying they don’t know
what it is they want of life
and need someone else
to lay it all out for them?
Is it not better to take all ideas
and experiment with them?
See if they work or not?
Observe the results,
accept the consequences?
Choose? Take responsibility?
When one does that,
is that not self-empowerment?
Ah, but that takes on-going effort
and no one to blame when things go awry:
This is the Age of Narcissism -
who would have the courage to state,
‘The buck stops here?’
Very few, it seems. Very few.
If it were God’s garden
methinks it would not have weeds:
for weeds are considered nefarious,
a danger to the good things,
taking up precious space
and eating up nutrients in the soil.
No, God would not tolerate weeds
in his garden
for the Bible makes it clear
that at the end of time
the weeds will be harvested
and thrown into the fire.
Oh well, I have one question:
where do weeds come from?
(I mean, who created them?)
Earth has weeds, many weeds
so I guess Earth
isn’t God’s garden!
OK, let’s forget how they got here:
what we do know, or are told
is that Earth grows the weeds
and knee-jerk reactionary angels,
as cops in marijuana fields,
harvest these illegal substances
and throw them into hell,
to burn forever.
There ain’t no “weed”
allowed in God’s turf – case closed!
You say you were created a weed?
Too bad for you.
Better luck next time -
oops, sorry, no next time!
- Next!
A man was walking through
the forest in search of trees,
and leaves:
he found nothing
and cursed his luck,
angrily dodging branches
heavy with life and fruit;
walking around giant trunks
offering him a place
to rest his tired frame
and eat a peaceful meal
in quiet shade:
he saw nothing.
Birds living in thickets
of thorn and alder
twittered and sang softly
in the air above his head
but he never looked up:
he heard nothing,
so intent was he upon his search –
but leaves and trees
eluded him.
His view of the world
he carried in a picture book
which was a great fool’s
precious legacy;
he, himself, being equally
a very great and learned
fool:
God, sitting on the branch of a tree,
sighed sadly as the fool walked by
in his frustration
and she whispered into the air:
“There are none so blind
as those that will not see
and none so deaf
as those that will not hear…”
When I was younger I was taught to pray;
I had no doubt that God loved me
And really wanted to give me good things
So I prayed for a red bicycle.
But nothing: my parents were poor
And my mother thought I’d hurt myself
And God, well, I dunno.
He didn’t show up with the bike
He didn’t give my dad the money
and allowed my mother’s fears to remain
and I walked
while my friends rode their bikes
and made fun of me.
There was a kid in my communion class -
pretty smart kid,
and he had a way of looking at things
quite differently than I.
(And although he became a lawyer
that takes nothing from his logic.)
I asked him about this problem of God;
the unanswered prayers and the Great Silence.
Oh hell – he said – I knew this would be good,
you have to, like, figure out the System.
What’s confession, and asking forgiveness for?
If you’re going to confess anyhow,
may as well have something to show for it.
When I wanted my red bike – don’t we all want one?
I went out one night and stole it.
Then I asked God to forgive me: case closed.
We may not be best friends
God and I -He hates those who figure it out
But we’re good business partners now:
you see, we understand one-another:
I take what I want, give God his share,
case closed.
Late for work
and your shoelace breaks;
your car won’t start;
you rush to call a cab
the phone inexplicably dies;
you chase a bus only to get thrown off
for not having the right change
and when you finally get to work
the boss says you’re fired:
What to do when shit happens?
There is a place hidden deep within
where these things matter not:
where we know life is surprises
and synchronicity
and seldom is the meaning clear
of interconnected events
driving us up the wall.
If shit happens let it turn to fertilizer;
allow the energy to compost in the mind:
let it rot, without judgment,
for in judgment the process halts:
the ‘bad’ remains
as the immutable Murphy’s Law.
Give my soul back to God?
Preposterous – some will exclaim.
Ridiculous – others will maintain.
Who cares? Would be another’s comment.
Why do such a thing? Why?
It’s a beautiful sunny day -
I’m walking silently in the high mountains
and my mind is full of thoughts:
Some pleasant, some deep and troubling
and that strange idea my friend brought up -
to give my soul back to God -
seems to haunt my every step.
What does that entail,
giving my soul back to God?
Well, what is a soul?
What purpose does it serve?
How would one go about this strange process
of returning the thing, anyway?
I have to assume that the soul
is man’s connection to God;
that it is “given” to man by God
but still belongs to God – no one else.
It’s God’s hidden mike and surveillance camera
into my very psyche. A “bug”; a plant,
an implant, perhaps even a virus.
It is the guarantee that man will never cease
wondering about God,
in acceptance or rejection but never oblivious.
It is the guarantee that God – in whatever form -
will always control man’s life and destiny.
That being said – and basically accepted -
all that remains is getting rid of this thing.
So I go to God (via the thing, of course)
and I state the obvious (He knows my thoughts)
and wait for His answer: A bit surprising -
“I’ll take it back, of course, since that’s your desire.
I can’t violate your free will (That’s God talking -
I won’t say I agree with his statement)
“But Earth is my planet and you’re on it
so you’re still under my jurisdiction here.
I’ll make you a deal, take it or leave it:
Work for me – do those things my own people
have forgotten I want done. Simple things -
the kind of things my Son asked them to do once,
like caring for widows and orphans,
loving all life; exhibiting compassion.
Promise you will do that while you’re here
and I won’t trouble you, now, or ever.”
Funny thing, isn’t it? Now I have no soul
I can be all the good things I once thought
would never be possible for me. And why?
Simply because now, it’s my idea, see?
I made a promise and I intend to keep it.
Who knows but some of the ideas in the books may get you inspired to do that thing you always wanted to do, even if this comes in a very small way, to make your corner of this world a better place to be in. Who knows but you may realize your little corner is a really nice place to be in after all. It's all about life, if at times expressing life "outside the box" as the saying goes.