Faith and Religion

Well...few things get more reaction than thoughts about religion and faith. I'm going to share four poems with you, since I will be on vacation next weekend and won't be able to do the blog. These poems were written as I struggled (and still struggle) to understand faith, religion, and hope. I placed the poems in chronological order, and it seems that maybe I've changed. So, here we go.

This first poem I wrote many years ago, when I was young, angry and unsure of what it all meant. I was not a fan of mankind then (still not much of a fan, now).

Dinosaurs of Christ

we live and worship
burning empty barns
like Dresden’s children.
TURN THE OTHER CHEEK I’LL SLASH YOUR THROAT
TAKE MY HAND YOU’LL RAPE ME
we are LAUGHING HATE AND LOVING VOMIT
we are what we despise and cannot accept
WE LIVE AND WORSHIP
WE LIVE AND WORSHIP
we are dinosaurs.
giants killing for the right to
fill in the blanks.
leaving shadow prints in forgotten rocks.
so curious that
memories named christ are significant to us.
murdered to show peace and love
how like a god to mock us
just when we need him most.
fat man in red/bunny with eggs
how like us to mock a brave man
who would wash our feet,
turn the other cheek.
who loved his dinosaurs.

(how like a god)
to love us
knowing we would never understand.
_________________________________________
I've always been disturbed by Easter, can you tell?

Easter Thought

And so
Without answers to his questions.
No toast for his cup of Maddog 20/20,
J.C. hung with the best of them.
Left but a corpse and a memory.
Bled love into the ground.
So we kill in his name.
Blood into the ground.

It defeats his intent.
But I’m not a god and wouldn’t know.
Perhaps this is good.
He’s never around to say.

with silent cries a man-god dies
we bleed his legend pale.
on plastic grass let’s sing a mass
with peter cottontail.

I question his method
not his madness.
I should be so mad
but am not.
Perhaps this is good.

There is no time for madness, J.C.
No more market for martyrs.
So lets ride, J.C.
You and me, J.C.
In the belly of the magical bunny.

How’s that for madness?
_______________________________________
I was starting to mellow with this poem. Still holding mankind to a high standard, and feeling that we fell short, but realizing there was meaning.

A Fragrance of Tired Roses

IT HAD ALL HAPPENED SO FAST WHAT WITH HIM BEING IN CHARGE OF THE MEN AND ALL THE SPEECHES AND THE TROUBLE WITH THE COPS AND THEM BEING FROM OUT OF TOWN AND STUFF AND WELL THINGS GOT Y’KNOW CRAZY AND NO ONE HAD THE COURAGE TO STOP AND FUNNY HOW THINGS CAN GET CRAZY TOO FAST SOMETIMES
The Crowd, fickle as hell, wanted blood.
As was their right.
It was said the critics crucified him.
POOR CHOICE OF WORDS
TOO SYMBOLIC IF YOU ASK ME
HE HAD IT COMIN’ IF YA WANNA KNOW THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER
MAKE AN EXAMPLE OF ONE OF ‘EM AND THE REST WILL TOE THE LINE
NOT ONE OF ‘EM WORTH A DAMN ANYWAY
So why the fear?
Beauty had yet to take one life.
Peace to cause one war.
If God came down to love us just once, say next Tuesday
He’d be dead by Friday.
And if more than one came to call
There’d be hell to pay.
BUT DON’T WORRY, LIL’ DARLIN’
THEY WON’T CAUSE NO TROUBLE NOWADAYS
WE SEEN TO THAT
CRUCIFY MY ASS, WE KICKED BUTT, LIL’ DARLIN’.
And
Beauty died without a whimper
Beneath a blind sky of sunshine.
Leaving but a fragrance
Of tired roses.
____________________________________
This was written as a gift for a friend of mine. She likes hummingbirds.

a miracle amongst the flowers

giving was so very easy.
for heaven it always was.
a child a star it never seemed quite enough.

so an angel
(the most delicate of heaven) was chosen to
teach mankind of hope.
perhaps ...beauty.
dressed in the fires of autumn,
the laughter of the greenest springs,
blessed with the voice of love,
the angel taught the child and mankind the
songs of hope.

the child grew with the world
then died from it.
in grief, heaven took back its gifts of
birth, eternity , and hope.
the angel, who learned to love man from watching the child,
asked to stay.
so heaven returned its last gift
(as only heaven could.)

the angel transformed into a bird of rainbow beauty
with a song that only the wind could know
or the flowers to hear.

it was by this gift
that the world knew the hummingbird.
silent as a child’s wish on a distant star,
quick as a clever thought upon waking.
the hummingbird is a sign of hope.
a miracle to be glimpsed amongst the flowers
_________________________________

Let me know your thoughts about these poems or your own experiences with faith. Take care.
b