I hate HOMOPHOBIA
I hate SEGREGATION
I hate WAR
I hate BULLIES
I hate AGEISM
I hate DISABLEISM
I hate LINGUICISM
I hate SEXISM
I hate TRANSPHOBIA
I hate EMPLOYMENT DISCRIMINATION
I hate RELIGIOUS DISCRIMINATION
I hate RACIAL SEGREGATION
I hate SLAVERY
I hate STEREOTYPING
I hate PREJUDICE
I hate GENOCIDE
I hate ADULTISM
I hate CHILD ABUSE
I hate WOMAN ABUSE
I hate POVERTY
I hate ALCOHOLISM
I hate UNEMPLOYMENT
I hate PEER PRESSURE
I hate CONSCRIPTION
I hate DRUG ABUSE
I hate IGNORANCE
I hate a lot of things... but does that make me a bad person?
But gradually, you will learn. You will learn how to hold it and marvel its body, so mechanical yet so full of life. You will learn to load it, hearing the bullets of knowledge click past your ears. The noise will scare you at first, and doubt will assail your thoughts. Are you really good enough to wield it?
Eventually you learn to cock the gun. The readiness, the excitement that bubbles from the gun makes you smile. At last, you are in control. Your teacher then asks you to point at the target. A boy grins at you. You recoil; you can't shoot a child, surely. Then the child transforms. It becomes square-ish, box-like; it becomes a TV. Propaganda blares out from suited leaders, deluding hundreds of poor, illiterate people clinging to hope rather than fact.
Your teacher steps in and utters the word.
Just turn your head away
I'm nothing like you
And I never want to be
You've never seen my face
Heard my voice
You're head turns automatically
Stare into the distance
Because I don't exist
Beauty is the beast
I don't love you
Not like everyone else
You're just a pretty face
Among a thousand others
But there's nothing on the inside
Only a thousand pessimistic thoughts
You wouldn't notice if they died
There would always be more
Someone to stand by your side
To love you
Or say they did
And that's all you need
But no broken hearts
Or slit wrists
From imaginary fears
You don't know why you hate me
It's because of something I never was
Just because I'm not beautiful
Doesn't mean I'm dead
by the vile will of you humans.
It is the very pulse of your soul.
The very core of the morality
that drives you.
Like you, it may be tainted & controlled
but only by your given gift of free will
can this take place.
Like light, it holds the power to
guide and to free, just as it holds
The potential to fade away into the darkness.
Like a parasite, can it consume you
but only by the filthy hands
of invited demons.
Faith is both gift & privilege
accepted into heart & mind
by the words of a truthful tongue.
In days to come, shall you hear
the drums of war over & around
The plains of existence, and faith shall be tested.
Hold fast for the Way of God
and not only his Holy Word.
Ever tainted by corrupt men.
Roads shall lead on and mislead
To a great many stories
But faith will move you, should you let it.
Faith is this in our hearts and souls...
Faith is the Road which leads to home...
Faith is the governing force of morality...
Faith was the motivation of these w
for my soul to take...
My shadow, with me, trembled,
knowing no way away,
from this inevitable ending of my own.
The pillars of my legs crumbled,
and down I fell...
The arm hesitated,
and to the side tilted the head,
from which came its orders.
Of golden bone was it made,
and its base disappeared
into the caverns its sleeve....
Shying from my sight.
The Robe was black
with a fine woven silk.
I beheld none but black,
and only by will
was any other sight
begotten to my terrified eyes.
Eyes of sapphire gazed down on me,
as my back fell to the ground in terror...
Paralyzed was I in the presence of Death,
But it made no haste against me.
"I am Time, just as history knows me."
He spoke as despondence dove to my ears.
To me did Death speak, as it always had,
but with gentle motion did it cry out...
Yelling to grasp my thought, as it knelt before me.
the leaves beneath it made no cries of pain...
as they were already dead, and decaying.
Again the sapphir
laid out before us, but so forgotten.
Lord forgive us our folly,
Such great division,
for reasons many.
To my human eyes,
the scorching history,
wayward amid all anarchy.
Fractions to masses,
to lead and wage war.
The eternal struggle,
to which we are oblivious,
but so highly involved.
Lord forgive me,
as I fear my efforts are in vain.
Will I question your words, I wonder;
Or gaze at you, without protest?
I am tangled in you already
It's too late to leave now, it's too late
I observe the contrast of your warm eyes with your cold skin
and try to snap from this trance
To once again remind myself of the situation I'm in
But you hold my gaze, and take my cheeks in your stone hands
And I quickly throw any doubt I had up in the air
Not bothering to see where it lands
I'm wrapped up in you; you are my world
I know with each second that passes,
I encompass myself in an even greater danger
I must confess though; You make me feel at ease
And I'm new to this, and each day I feel even stranger
Knowing that I live for you;
Knowing that you could be the very death of me.
But knowing this happiness; this love
I can never know anything more than this
You are my life now, My whole life
I want nothing more than to share eternity with you
And yet, you refuse t
Just a few weeks ago, some middle-aged couple - Mr. and Mrs. Rellik - moved into the old mansion just outside of town. This is the type of house people would consider "haunted" if it was abandoned for enough years. Looking around, though, Mark could tell that the only thing unusual about this house is that it was really, really big. A lot of half-unpacked boxes were strewn about, and the furniture was covered in rooms that were clearly being painted. In fact, most of the rooms were still bare, and it didn't look like the couple had enough belongings to fill them all up.
Nobody was home, but Mark felt nervous anyways, and not just because he was trespassing on private property. He'd come here to investigate the rumors flying around town about the new residents. Most of them revolved around the fact that nobody had ever seen Mr. Rellik, only his wife. Mrs. Rellik was also an enigma: she was pretty good-looki
We rush forward,
Into a future that had signs,
And now the promises are broken,
This is what it's like,
To stand on broken dreams
I'm standing on the shards,
Of these broken dreams
To have lost such beauty,
What does it mean?
It's like glass that has gathered,
Beneath my feet
Everyone is bleeding,
From the shards of broken dreams
With harsh words and demeaning,
We are no more
When every single word,
Opens it's own sore,
When broken promises are made,
And bitterly repaid
This is what it's like,
To stand on broken dreams
I'm standing on the shards,
Of these broken dreams
And they have so dulled with time,
That they have lost their sheen
Everyone can see,
But no-one believes,
That they are alone,
On shards of broken dreams
We don't learn,
As the seasons pass
We all yearn,
Just to forget the past
But somewhere in all of this,
Misery and faithlessness
We find that the past,
Is the only truth that lasts
We are standing on the shards of b
Of Heavenly origin.
Governed by the Highest Throne,
and led by the Horsemen.
Devout are the Grim Trinity.
As death has never ceased
So true to the cause are they...
By cursed and divine blades.
The Patrons of the Deceased and Dying...
and of those related to the involved.
Divine by right is the Angel...
Unholy by cause is the Demon...
Leader by title is the Nephilim.
By them are taken souls guided,
Through them are souls
released or enslaved.
Last I checked I'm a human being, who happens to be pansexual.
Last I checked sexuality was a born fact, not an insult.
Apparently the way I look either makes me transgendered or a full out dyke.
Apparently being a homosexual is the highest insult to be given.
Apparently being a homosexual is a disgusting choice made by dirty perverts.
Apparently I'm a leacher that preys on helpless heterosexual females.
Apparently, apparently, apparently...
Apparently as the years go by more individuals express their ignorance through hatred towards strangers who have done them no wrong what so ever personally.
Don't flatter yourself.
Why would anyone find attraction in someone with such a hideous personality such as yours?
Don't fret, I forgive you.
I'm sure there is a logical reason behind your toxic words and actions.
It's true, sometimes I am angry as well...
Angry of not understanding why your mind is so tainted with ra
the ever growing free for all,
The all you can eat,
dog eat dog world,
are the simplistic struggles.
So out of hand,
that solutions become
straight out and down
from the kitchen above,
down the slip n' slide
through the caverns
of mishaps and mistakes,
I bet it tastes like regret,
and the buyer's remorse,
Reap what you sew say
the teeth of the demon,
With every bite sinks
in a shame filled saliva.
"Maybe we'll slow them down!"
Say the so called thinkers...
I can't help but think against them,
but what do I know?
I'm just a common crumb in the trough.
Above Heaven watches,
restricted by the local law
to keep the peace...
nothing is ever done,
but to keep the balance.
that left me far from whole.
The withered memory born unto my dreams again,
refreshed and once more binding me by chain.
The reopening scars I once upon a time, thought healed,
gape wide to open for the flood gates, red and revealed.
My witnessing eyes bleed out old tears from a rusted well,
Attempting again to put back out the fires of this age old Hell.
The rising waters find my feet and climb,
the two floods meet, where their cause is rhymed.
My heart from which the blood and tears flow,
now at where the pain does ever grow.
Close these outpouring wounds, build back up the walls...
Make for my feet, the forward movement from where my future calls.
Once again I will shed my skin,
leaving behind the marks of where I've been.
thin and starved by winter winds...
Dancing, like moving cracks on the window,
Through which I did stare.
Imagine, the image so morbid above as I gazed.
unnerving to the anchoring blood,
drying up within the veins of my limbs,
much like the branches that sliced the air...
The roots dug deep into my back,
and the anchored blood began to freeze...
My vessels, destroyed by glaciers,
of icy blood, that once flowed.
The travesty, of the bullet plunged into my heart,
whose beat slows, and withers and fades.
Too and so soon, the loss of my life...
Now I play the game of patience...
The darkness which engulfs you now.
Apollyon, of that intrepid verse,
Now awaits, drooling with a gaping mouth.
Of temptation, the liars tongue,
Striking up the deals that bring you only to ruin
Just below, Tartarus waits for you...
And the patient welcoming shall be of no surprise.
Embrace now, bitter calamity...
The retribution that has longed for thy touch.
The clustered storm, prolonged, procrastinated,
hovers over to knock you down.
The portal, that vortex, to plunge you down.
Have you to own, no peace...
only what is allowed to your filthy hands...
The wind itself moves and shifts, slows down or stops completely with perfect timing. Birds fly over my head with fluid motions, mimicking the invisible waves of the wind. The very last rays of light of this day bounce and reflect of everything, as if kissing the world and everyone in it goodnight. Clouds, like gentle giants of the sky, move gracefully towards the North, following some unknown path; playing their part. A lake in front of me glimmers, sharing the sunlight, multiplying it in all directions.
Everything here has its place.
Everything here is perfect, except me, with my thoughts, wishes, expectat
friend while my innocence
is mine, you have your
lies and i have my life.
which do you
honestly think will
we spend weekends at
bars and weekdays on
the roof of your parents
no one lives here
now so it's the
perfect place for
you to have sex with
strangers and get drunk.
i'm alive, i'm alive.
you're only dreaming.
i spend weekends walking
down the street where the
bar used to be, and i spend
weekdays working like
you still think you're
going somewhere, and your band
is going to make it
someday we'll all be
dead all you will be
no where. no one will
remember you because
no one knows you, no
one loves you.
an execution, while play
The howling strings
Of the cellos
Of the veins
Of the time
To the discord
Are the who and what,
the how and the why
Ever lost to that
of the cords
of the strings
of the howling
"Fix this", they cry,
the masses whose
words fester and boil,
carried words, spoken indirect
of the leaders
of the struggles
of the home
of the brave
The final breath
of humanities dying words
"in ashes, from ashes"
She speaks, so melancholy
of the future
of the present
of the past
"World!" She pleads
with a cry, so finishing
"Heed and listen!"
To them she speaks
Of the necessary
of the desired
of the curses
of their blessings...
I can't quote Scripture. I don't know much theology, and I can't speak for all the divisions of Christendom. But, as a practicing Christian, I do know a bit about my religionenough to get annoyed when ignorant people (I'm looking at you, Angry Forum Posters) consider Christianity to be hateful and Christians to be naïve.
I'm Orthodox Christian. The Orthodox Church is regarded as the original Christian church, dating back to the time of Christ. (No, the Catholic Church isn't the firstthey split from the Orthodox in 1054 over many issues.) I won't go into those details here, but if you are curious to know more, a fantastic article which explains the differences between the Orthodoxy and Catholicism can be found in the authour's comments.
Anyway, since I'm Orthodox Christian, many beliefs shared by the Orthodox will show up in the following essay.
Saying it is time for change,
Far too many look at them,
Like they are insane
Finding false comfort,
In their everyday lives,
Fearing the future,
Is how they survive
I speak for myself,
And many others too,
The time for growth,
Is long overdue
The "same old, same old",
Has led us astray,
With our lives as currency,
The debt must be paid
Maybe once in a lifetime,
Do you get this chance
Too many walk forward,
Without a backward glance
Closing your mind,
And refusing to think,
Is the never ending tragedy,
That has made us this weak
I call for reason,
In a world gone mad
'Tis yet another season,
In which no-one is glad
I raise my fist against,
This sick, flawed institution
The time for action is NOW,
Welcome, to the revolution
jlp November 1, 2008
how he flits and flutters,
tweets and twitters.
As happy as can be
among the trees of green.
In his bliss
amongst the trees where he exists,
he sometimes feels something is amiss,
but these feelings he is quick to dismiss.
For why disturb the happiness he has attained
with feelings of worry and doubt.
Within these trees, a life he has sustained,
a life spent flittering and fluttering about.
But if the songbird grew brave enough to see,
he would know the forest trees are meant to deceive.
That the land of freedom he grew to know,
was all but a show.
If he really knew what his home was,
what a tragedy he would be forced to gauge.
Beyond the trees he would find glass...
Glass that forms the walls of his cage.
I want to live in a world where no one cares. I want apathy, not acceptance. Because, there's no need for acceptance because there's no chance of rejection! There's nothing wrong with it, so rejection and persecution are logically ruled out. I don't want to hear this dialogue ever again "I'm gay." "Good for you!" Good for you? You don't hear "good for you" for being born with hazel eyes or being heterosexual. Honestly, there is no difference, stop perpetuating one! It's just like when a little kid gets hurt, you don't tell the kid they're hurt, because if you did, they would freak out. If we never recognize it as a difference, then there won't be one! Everybody is the
Too deep to make the cut...
Thus questions lacking answers even decent...
Unworthy to our ears...
The actions, and lack there of...
there they lie, for the record
Before us, the tombstone
Made up of page after page.
For the wish of personal gain
As from above, God weeps.
The grass was of greed...
The dirt of lead and uranium
The sky wept blood,
Washing clean the crusted oil
From the eroded stone.
"His weeping calls to us"
Said I, to the ignoring ears surrounding.
To busy were they lamenting
Over the grave now shifting
As poured down a hard wrath of Heaven.
Forgive me, this tangent,
As the summers warmth has gone from me...
Making me cold with a hatred so bitter.
Understand you, the will of your ways
Oh holders of power and ability?
It is of them which I speak,
It is of their impious folly
About which I rant on without rhyme.
Do your simple minds comprehend?
Or is the grass too high for my voice to reach?
Some people say ignorance is bliss--but they're wrong. Ignorance is a silver maple seed, erringly planted in a backyard.
When it first germinates, everything appears normal. Seedling grows into sapling. Sapling into tree. It grants animals food and home, and blesses humans with shade and beauty. Its silvery leaves shimmer in the wind in spring and turn a rich gold in fall. Even its seeds are magical to watch as they flutter to the ground.
But that splendor is only what we can see. Beneath the surface, things are much different. Much uglier.
The roots spread out, twisting and twining around every possible water source. They choke the roots of lesser trees, eventually... killing them. Still not satiated, the ravenous tentacles seek out water mains and septic systems. They burrow inside to drink their fill, cracking sidewalks and shattering driveways in the process. In the roots' greedy hunt, they can even break through a house's foundation.
When the monster rea