Just Read the Bible “Just read the bible.” A plea that many an atheist has heard. I have something to say to anyone who has said, “Just read the bible.” I was a Christian until I read the bible. I first read the bible all the way through when I was eleven years old (alright I admit that I skipped the genealogies and I also skipped the description of the temple after the first few times it came up.) This read through raised some questions for me, such as why are some animals are in one place but not in another place that has a similar environment and why there were different version of older, extinct animals currently living. By the time I was twelve I had come up with the solution! And that solution was multiple creation events spread over time; never mind that this actually contradicts what the bible actually says, this bit of reasoning allowed me to keep my faith for a bit longer. And yet even as I came up with that wonderfuMore Like This
After Words"I wish you would give it back to me."More Like This
"Why? You'll just break it again."
"It's my heart. I will do whatever the hell I want with it."
"Yeah? Well, you take terrible care of things that are yours."
"Fine. Keep it. I am equal parts concrete and soul anyway."
"You say that, but I'm not entirely sure that you are. I think you're deep, and fragile and broken, and that makes you beautiful."
"Again, concrete and soul. "
"I wish you wouldn't make this so hard."
"So hard? I'm making this easy. You gave me dreams of half feathered swans and a stupid house on an endless beach and a city made of an ocean, and now you're taking it all away. But at least I had them for a while."
"Don't be that way."
"I am going to be awake every single night and wish for a shooting star, so I can wish upon that shooting star to wish thoughts of you away."
"I wish this could be easier on you. You gave me so much and so many too."
"So much of love and so many wishes?"
"No, so much wishing and so many love
Transgendered By StarlightMore Like This
In the mirror stands a beautiful
smiles and waves with
grace and poise.
A satin black dress
hugs every curve,
like a boa constrictor
wraps around its favourite meal.
gives a little show,
turning on a heal.
One smooth twirl.
But the fabric falls too quickly,
Arriving at the party
excited to mingle.
eyes follow the moving bodies.
longs to fit in
with the other curves.
hips begin to sway.
begging for the music
A tap on
turns to see
the eyes of fate.
"can it be at me?"
The music still plays
begins to swoon.
has no clue.
Their bodies move as one
as the dance carries on.
The sun begins to set
Writers are all crazy, you know.Letters spill down from a canopy andMore Like This
down the vines,
scatter across the margins to make
a story so divine.
There's a picture show
behind those eyes,
where a lake leaks stories
into a boat full of mad
but for those who think it's crazy
it really is quite sad.
on a rope swing,
between horror and once upon a time.
She obsesses over meter,
and nothing will quite rhyme.
She stares off into the
d i s t a n c e
trying to make some sense
of every idea that flocks her boat
and never will relent.
Her brain is constantly on
You do not need "God" to be Moral."If you don't believe in God, then why believe in morality?"More Like This
This question was once asked by a stampmaker who has since deactivated their account here on deviantART. To this person, it seemed that morality was something that required faith. Faith, in the sense of the word that the religious use in reference to their relationship with their particular god, and not in the other sense that is used when someone speaks of trust or confidence in someone or something, based off of previous experiences.
I have always been of the opinion that we do not need god to be a good person. Some have asked me, where does the concept of good come from, but from God? It's an interesting and thought-provoking question. Where does the concept of good come from? Is it something that is learned? And if not learned, is it something that we are born with?
I feel that the solution to these questions can be found by viewing our behavior in the same wa
JackMy grandmother fell in love with my grandfather when his skin was still yellow with malaria.More Like This
At twenty-four, he had just returned from war, his pockets heavy as his heart, weighed down with souvenir scars and unspent bullets. Gaping trenches hung beneath each of his dark eyes like open, sore wounds, or sorer memories. At nineteen, she had not known the taste of oranges. The first time she held one, she bit straight into the pasty skin, expecting sweetness and coming up with shell-fragments.
In the pictures, my grandmother, radiant in her gray wedding dress, stands before my grandfather. Those trenches are still there, still yawning beneath each eye like caskets, but they are beginning to fold under, to fill themselves in. Standing together, they are joined by out-stretched hands, his free fingers reaching up to hold her cheek in his palm, the pale skin there blushing the softest pink: a single petal, unfolding, held erect in his hewn hands. In the pictures, it is there in the space lef
146 poundsmy mother tells me that i should be ashamedMore Like This
for dipping my baby carrots in salad dressing,
that my food doesn't need the salt i sprinkle on it.
my afternoon tea doesn't need any sugar, skip
the lemonade and drink the water instead.
do you really need that?
her sharp tone echoes like military orders in the face of combat.
she tells me that at my age, her jean size was half of mine
and i resist the urge to tell her that maybe that means she
had half the character i do.
shopping with her, she butts heads with a body-image complex,
telling me to quit fooling myself and pick the next size up.
i shock her time and time again when i cram my corners into
every article of clothing i selected on my own.
how will you ever get married?
& i wish i could tell her how boys have seen me naked
in the emotional sense of the word, how they have found
truth and honor ready to burst from my so-called "fat rolls."
she will never know that i am a garden with an unlocked gate
and that each o
Tuesday AfternoonGOD:More Like This
Yes, hello again.
I'm sorry, my memory fails me. Which one are you?
Well, I was Martin Fry.
I'm sorry, those records are terminated. What's your number?
No, no, not your queue number. Your executive number, the eight-digits.
You expect me to remember that?
Well, it is within the seven plus-minus two limit, which you should achieve if you've reached up to level one. Or, are you the reincarnation?
Yeah, that's right. That's what I wanted to discuss with you.
Did you miss your stop?
I only sent you off a few hours ago.
Yes, my point exactly. What's the deal with turning me into a sea turtle?
You said you liked swimming, and that you'd like a long life.
Yeah, but their life expectancy from hatching is only about four seconds, innit? I was eaten by a gull after two. You do realise that the odds of me becoming an old sea turtle are about one
A Four-Year-Old's PhilosophyAnyone who has ever had a philosophical conversation with a four-year-old knows that it typically breaks down in utter boredom and the desire for a new toy. Most kids don't even like to discuss anything more than their own personal world and have very little patience for anything outside of their own comprehension.More Like This
My nephews seem to be the exception to this.
True, they don't have the greatest grasp on reality. Seth, after all, is still convinced that I actually turn into a horse when I get down on all fours and make "horsey noises." Evan is a little more logical; he tells me quite plainly that I'm "only pretending" and can't actually be anything more than his slightly eccentric aunt. Not to say that he doesn't enjoy pretending that I'm his personal steed, but he'll tell me who I am all the same. For the most part, both boys have learned the basic rules of reality and if they can be broken.
Evan has become the greatest source of philosophical fodder in the last year or so. Once,
A Philosophy of Hell...."The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term. The answer by one student was so "profound" that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well.More Like This
Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)? Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following:
First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a me
Always RememberToday we remember the boy who was rapedMore Like This
To prove he was a girl.
Today we remember the girl who was murdered
When a group of boys saw her penis.
Today we remember the ones who took their own lives
Because no one told them it was okay.
Today we remember allies
Who've helped us along the way.
Today we create awareness
For those who've come before,
For those who still live,
And those who've yet to be born.
Life is precious
And so is hope.
No one should have to lose either.
TDOR and IShe was like any other girl, except not really.More Like This
And he was like any other boy, except not really.
Both had the vision, the experience, the dysphoria of the other.
Fate gave them double lives--and running chances
like licking a razor blade trying to stay safe
and in control of their bodies, spaces, experiences.
I wonder if my mother will ever understand
the unease I feel when people look at me too closely
the sense of paranoia I feel when I use a public bathroom
the panic when I don't know where I am on a dark street
every time someone reads me
when my old name and identity catch up with me in an unsafe place
when my voice or lips or hands give me away and I don't notice it.
I wonder if my sisters know what it's like to read
about someone like you in the paper
and find out they were
identified by their torso.
I wonder if that feeling that I'm not meant to live past thirty
will ever go away.
all of those we've lost.
There is No QuestionWe hide ourselves the same way.More Like This
We sit hunched in, bent over, curled up,
protecting our most precious pieces.
We’re protected subconsciously
from some unseen attacker, and from
We protect ourselves from
our own preconceived notions of ourselves.
We protect ourselves from
someone else's warped view of our behavior.
They say, if you’re a good little nobody,
and allow it to happen,
you can change.
How do you change
when you are too afraid of the unknown
to even make a real effort
for fear that the world will implode around you?
No one can tell me.
How do you attain happiness
when the things you require to be happy
are all either completely unattainable themselves,
or do not really exist?
What if the things you needed to be happy
only existed in your own mind
hidden behind the barriers of bone and flesh
that separate one world from the other?
No one will help me understand.
How do you sever what tortures you
when it is an integral piece of yourself?
How do you let go
The Damage of FaithTo many people in the world, the concept of a religion is a welcome one. Their faith provides them with warmth, hope, and an assured protection that is impossible to get from the cold, cynical reality. Theists swathe themselves in a bubble of mental protection, content in the knowledge that thousands, if not millions, of other people are also doing this. Indeed, the very idea that one could do this and not feel part of something greater is absurd. Truly, the theist believes themselves to be part of a large social group, and sees themselves as accepted. How then, you ask, can this warm, bubbly benefit be of any harm to our society? The answer is shockingly obvious, and deliciously simple.More Like This
Religion is a perverse entity, surrounded in half-truths, and violent mystery. It is the greatest, and most obstructive barrier any nation, culture, or ethnicity meets when trying to progress for the better. For religion does no good to mankind, I'm afraid to say. Instead, religion breeds ignorance, an