8 Ways of Looking at Religion

He will look upon me,
And judge me,
Fire and brimstone,
But He loves me.

The only way to be saved,
Is to give up my faith.
I will turn my back,
As my heart will turn pure,
And my soul will turn black.

The only way that is fair,
Is to blow away the town square,
With children there.
Virgins await,
As my soul will enter the gate.

Hocus pocus,
From over a millennia.
A sad reality,
No one gives into rationality.
The answers are clear,
But they turn a blind eye.

Heaven is coming,
I’ve said my Hail Marys, St. Josephs, and Jesuses.
As I grab my crucifix,
The afterlife,
Is it just another quick fix?

Transform into something new,
The gods will renew,
For all the pain I suffered,
Please, Lord, give me another.

Even though I have killed,
His Holiness will bathe me,
For He died for my sins,
And the life he gave me,
So I must eat his body.

Maybe the answers are not clear,
Maybe we are prisoners of fear.
Maybe the worlds just collide,
Maybe we are along for the ride.
Maybe there is a purpose,
or does Heaven only exists on the surface?
A more intangible idea,
in the minds of the people.
Whatever you believe,
it is all for the world to see.

5 Ways of Looking at a Styrofoam Cup

Speaking into it,
Hearing the garbled message,
Clear for a second,
But only in silence.

Elixer of the gods,
The purest wine flows.
To taste the lips,
No one knows.

Falling infinitely,
My cup runeth over,
Burning citrus covers the floor,
Like the Great Flood,
In time before.

Change will find its way.
Into the cup so deep,
There’s no where to go tonight,
The price of freedom is steep.

Crushed on the pavement,
It once had a great run,
It will someday serve its purpose,
Again, in the great cycle.

Random Word Poem

Precision changes dreams,
Brisk vigor gives greed a future.
Independence receives relentless seeding.
While future tempo is still beating.
Complex emotions,
Fuel a seeking pursuit.
An own personal goal,
Where desire is at root.
It will only get better,
In time, the idea will simmer.
Growing into something more,
Where mind wins the final score.

Sleeping Free

Sleeping free looks impossible,
A smart way to indulge the sense and soothe the soul.
Body is willing, but thoughts override instant sleep.
A place where headaches and pain flow like a jolt of caffeine.
Alienated from slumber,
running scared in a dream.
trying to unwind,
wake me up,
please.

Manager's Remorse

I’ve got a loving family, and money,
But what does it really mean?
Delirium and delusions of grandeur,
Taken to the extreme.

Sure, I became successful,
But for what?
Frivolous work,
that means nothing,
Has unraveled my life.

Marooned in this office,
I begin to sort out the pieces.
The worst of worlds will collide,
As I go along for the ride.

An idea will resonate,
I just have to get out.
It feels like I’m suffocating,
In some crazy roundabout.

Under the Sycamore Tree

It was under the sycamore tree,
That I once knew a girl.
But that was a long time ago,
When we were young,
And the world was new.

We were naïve,
She was going to college,
I was going west,
We both said we’d keep in touch,
But we both knew our fate,
And so it will be,
Under the sycamore tree.

When I see our initials carved in the bark,
It takes me back to that summer,
I can still smell her scent in the wind,
Still hear her voice in the leaves,
I can almost touch her hair in the soft blow of the breeze.
But still the memory remains,
Under the sycamore tree.

Summers have come and past,
More people that I’ve seen.
But not a day goes by,
Not thinking about that one perfect week,
Under the sycamore tree.

Garmonbozia

Wrapped in plastic,
The transparent soul floats in the water.
The mutilated force of hunger,
Makes the purest soul quiver.
While a gleam of silver,
Resonates deep in her eyes.

As the sleepy town awakes,
The innocence turns to slumber.
An agent of purity arrives,
To taste the warm cherry pie.
In time, he will find,
They are not what they seem.

They will accuse each other,
Scolding with envy and anguish.
The father will dance and sing,
Because she took the ring.
It was not meant to be like this,
So beautiful and tragic.

Pain and sorrow,
Will be feasted by the spirits tomorrow.