Tag Archives: relationships

Middle Ground

Denying God is a choice for some folks. This choice has many different factors, most of which are not evil. The roots of disbelief are varied and don’t have as much to do with Satan as they do with our psychology.

I’ll stay as far from the atheist vs theist movement as much as possible. These two groups, in my eyes, are the charismatic extremes of the normal everyday believer or non believer. While one labors to live today within an Old Testament reality the other spends an inordinate amount of time talking about the crusades. Neither of these two will help anyone.

I have learned that the middle road scenery is a more realistic journey. I have to stay focused on the path because life seems to push us to extremes. I’m not afraid of God or biology, and for me, it’s what we’re all made of.

At it’s purest form God seems to be the “thing” we question or celebrate every time something good or bad happens to us. After a series of unfortunate events we may question “Why me!” Maybe we hit a string of luck and feel fortunate that somehow it was our turn. Either way, luck, good or bad, assumes an external control.

The strange thing is that whether you believe or don’t, there’s a nagging “something” within the human condition that questions our place in the world. A believer who questions their faith during times of trial, or the non believer who rationalizes events in their life, both rely on something invisible to the average human condition of understanding. Both experience events beyond their understanding and question “why”.

I’m not making a case for or against believing or non belief. I’m simply pointing to the fact that we share this space of unknown consequence. We experience things beyond or control or understanding and attempt to fill it with faith or facts. When both of these fail it seems it’s just us. Somehow we are the unfortunate or fortunate ones.

This space is where the disagreement comes and folks have preyed (no pun intended) on probably forever in human history. It’s almost like I wish we could define for folks what it was like “pre-religious”. Like we do for pre-industrialization. From the accounts we have, it was a violent existence. I’m not saying religion saved the world , it seems it capitalized on humans ability to organize for collective survival. However, we are certainly better off as humans for exploring our spiritual side, it’s when it became a vocation we strayed.

Origins are the key. It’s from these points we can move foreword with coherence. We won’t change institutional religion in government, they’re mutually exclusive at this point, we’d have to eliminate both and that’s not gonna happen. We can enlighten folks on the history of our humanity so that they may exercise their spirituality more responsibly.

So whoever or whatever we fill that void with, we have to leave room for respect and honesty. When I say honesty I don’t mean facts, I mean feelings. I am in the middle between facts and feelings, not to be objective, although that helps, but I think the middle is the space where balance rules.

Hitting folks over the head with a Bible or Quran just makes folks numb. Just like throwing our a barrage of scientific facts to counter someone’s spiritual sensibilities shuts down dialog. Someone had to stand in the gap of reason.

Religion is not spirituality and science is not intelligence. It makes no sense that God would subjugate his creation, just as it makes no sense science would reject possibility. Between the two most of us live, and within the two we survive our own intellectual and spiritual ignorance. And this is life.

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Giving Back

I hesitate, my instincts too far beyond my surroundings

Alert, in tune with my heartbeat and the earths warnings

Now I must stop and seek cover from what I fear

Not cowering, not hiding, but living on the edge of finality it’s clear

Trust is the luxury of believers, I’m not a believer anymore, I’m here

Somewhere between safe and sound, I can no longer wander

It serves me well to stay in the shadows, alert and alive

I don’t need the lie anymore. I know under that beautiful garden there’s violence and decay, things we know, but don’t speak of

Don’t sell me assurances you can’t provide, I’m safe alone

I’m tired of all these people I have to be just to make your world complete

It’s been so long you don’t know which one is me, because you fell, fell into the trap and got ensnared in the one that you could never be for more than a moment

I was hear all along watching you melt under the light of an abstract dream. It was warm for a moment, but only the sun can bring true light, true warmth. The others just illuminated what they wish you to see, what they want you to be

Now your not human, not a person, but a part of something so much bigger than you that you can’t see it’s nothing, you’re nothing. You’ve been put to sleep in someone else’s dream.

Not I. I am wild, but free. I feel the heat of the day and shiver in darkness under the moons glow dreaming of sunrises.

What good is a sunset anyway. The end of a day shouldn’t be honored, it should be remembered. Where did we learn to worship the end of anything, it’s beginnings that have hope. All we have in sunsets are reflections and regrets

So I’ll keep your smile and give you back your watch. I’ll keep the sound of your voice, but give you back your words. You’ll need your hands, so I’ll leave with your touch gently caressing my heart. Everything else belonged to the world anyway.

Cooking up the truth!

I hear eloquent excuses whispered in dimly lit corners. Shadows flicker and colors fade to velvet and glass creating mirror images of ancient travelers.

I ignore vernacular reasons sang with a distracting rhythm. Concrete and steel reverberate staccato sounds so fast there’s no time to object, just shake your head and move out into the open air where fresh perspectives leave your head shaking.

I listen to factors that make a man stand tall holding his faults accountable. Clear skies and consciences drift transparent in fields of green. Remorse and regret peel back the truth of what tomorrow will bring. Like the morning dew doesn’t change the flowers I see, patience reveals the withering glory.

If we are what we eat, the we become what we hear. Listening carefully is akin to the tongues wisdom. For a word lasts longer than a meal, and the nourishment absorbed depends on the quality of the listener, as well as the chef.

Shattered

Shattered dreams of hope lay slumped in gray. No longer can a dream lift spirits under the weight of the myst. So from here I will rise and walk broken towards a light to fuse my fears into anger. Then, and only then can I smile again feeling the pain of others clothed in my humanity for all to fear.

For I survived the fall and rose to my knees scarred and numb. I slithered across the dank carpet of decay seeking a shard of light, but all I found were memories and broken pieces of yesterday void of reflection.

From my knees I can feel the power of the earth chanting to my feet. Rise, rise to the occasion, face the oppression and walk proud. Walk proud of the scars that legends are made of, because one day they’ll be stories and songs sang by beautiful voices about how I groaned to the heavens for one chance at revenge.

I embody the human spirit for you. I kneel before my own greatness so your back can strengthen in my darkness. We don’t need light to shine. The moon is not as vain as the sun, but guides lost souls to the dawn of a new day.

Voices

Entangled in an audible nightmare
Where my mind can’t see
Why my brain just stares.

Take my life, my limbs even
But leave my mind to me
And the sanity I’ve Been given.

Firm ground slithers
From under my thoughts
As the air withers.

And suddenly the noise is white
While trees smile and faces grow
Into a darkness void of night.

Island

Now, more than ever, you must be an island. The wind and waves are foul. The warmth is a false blanket for shivering in the rain. Storms come and go, and even though the sun will shine again, it will be on debris.

I listen to the thunder and the crashing of waves intently. All I hear is noise. You can’t learn from wind and water fighting to be heard, all you ever get is wet and cold.

This is separate from chaos or anarchy. They have a purpose, a goal to attain. This storm lacks the elements to become nothing more than a nuisance. Nothing can become of noise without a coherent voice.

It’s not enough to stay indoors and create a drama from what unfolds behind sliding glass doors and vomit into the glow of a glass brain. You have to free your mind from that fish bowl.

Step away, find an anchor on high ground where the noise is distant. Find that place where you can see the storm for what it is. Stay above the fray and when you feel the spray of the crashing foam, move higher. Stay on firm ground.

As time passes and the storm subsides you can watch the different elements and how they recede or sweep away the debris. Once you know how the storm develops, devastates, and departs you’ll know better how to fortify your island.

From this point forward you won’t be fooled by soft breezes or passing clouds. You’ll see right through the surf into the churning froth underneath. And when the storm comes you’ll be prepared for the truth. It’s just weather. Blue skies and sunshine are alway glimmering above the tantrums of nature.

I am an island. I am is more than a statement. I am is a manifesto that I created the land I stand on and although forces beyond me may revolve around this earth, this place is mine and nothing can shake my resolve that truth is like the sun, ever present and undying even when it’s clouded by the nature of others.

Homeboy

To all my brothers and sisters out there; just know that poverty is an idea they made up to keep us in our place because we see things differently. Not better or worse, cause we don’t give a fuck what you do or have. We only care for ours.

We have to get past the idea that govt, religion, or schools are gonna bring us together; we are together everyday of our lives and most days are good, without those institutions. They’re the ones that divided the world up to suit their needs anyway.

Looking at poverty on a horizontal scale, rather than vertical gives me perspective. I’m not at the bottom of any hierarchy. I’m not to the left of any curve. I’m here, with my folks livin, lovin, and strugglin as was meant to be. Your place is of no concern to me, I’m an American to the point I’m free and peaceful till someone or something challenges that, all that other shit is just fodder to keep lesser men feeling good about their insecurities.

Government owns society. Is culture an escape from society? Ask yourself that question. They try to promote that multicultural shit so they could get ahead of us being left alone. They hand out a few dollars and state cheese trying to make you feel like you’re in debt, bitch your economy would fall if you weren’t handing out something.

The bureaucracy surrounding public assistance reaches out deep into every sector of our economy. You got these haters out there talking about drug testing or community service. Go ahead and take your vouchers and milk then see how far your class warfare will get you. You’ll see millions more in them freebee lines, cause most of them folks handing that shit out lost that connection between their hands and their heads long ago, if they ever had it.

It’s our poverty that reveals your greed. You dig up our huts to reveal past truths about a culture you ain’t part of to demonstrate your status as wealthy. There ain’t no connection bitch. You don’t know what cold feels like when there’s no heat to be found or hunger when the next meal has to be found.

Poverty is a concept you made up to make the common man believe he was somewhat less, but you marvel at our ingenuity in museums and history books. You dig deep into archives with dollars and delusional dignity trying to find a connection to a struggle you were never part of.

Well I’m back where I belong from that middle class myth of the “American Dream”; I’m awake now to the lies and deceit. Down here folks don’t live off another mans work and no man lives off theirs. If someone lends you a hand you shake it and smile and that’s all you accept when it’s your turn.

This is “The American” they’ll be digging up in 1000 years. This is the man those weak ass wannabes will be going through family lineage to find an attachment to for posterity Just so they can say “I came from the working class.”, bitch you came from ignorance and wouldn’t have lasted a day with my folks.

Everyone wants better for their children or the next generation. What is better? Is it finding enough comfort to judge others? Is it gathering more things to keep boredom at bay? Is it having enough money to buy your way through some perceived tough time? For me it’s demonstrating that dignity isn’t tied to the economy and respect doesn’t wear clothes or drive cars, it takes pride in itself regardless of what others believe. Stand on your own two feet, even if someone helps you up because you’re always a human like everyone else.