Ronin of the Spirit

Because reality is beautiful.

Breakup poetry.

Ok, seriously, I have to stop posting my random, mostly high school-ish poetry, but I am having so much fun I can’t stop.  Haiku time, kids.

In breakup we both

lost some one we truly loved.

You lost more than I

Advertisements

July 28, 2009 Posted by | poetry, Self discovery, Slice of life, Uncategorized | , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Sister in Christ

labelle-medlove

Brother this and brother that
Hold me I’m scared
and have I gotten fat?
Love should be shared

So tell me your prayers!
I’m ever so blessed
To have brother who cares
when I feel distressed

When I feel depressed
eyes stained red
Kind words confessed
He kisses my head

His white armour does shine
This man I love, “brother” of mine

Truly, I loved you
There could be no denying
My heart surely was true
But, a bit I was lying

Strong passions raised by your pining
I first feared your kindness
But you told me of love
How holiness makes blindness
Purity, gift from above

Would descend like a dove
And I believed
I fell for your drug
My heart was relieved

You were my “sister” appointed by Jesus
Divine friendship crafted to free us

Never had I loved with abandon
Trusted so completely
I wasn’t my way. I planned
relationships discretely

Scared to let love defeat me.
But you, I loved madly
Without contract or treaty
It couldn’t end badly

With the Lord as our daddy
Holy union, perfect, platonic
Life couldn’t go sadly
Love was our tonic

High on Jesus, love, and each other
I was truly happy being your “brother”

But a line had be crossed
A road had be started
The switch had been tossed
The train had departed

To and fro my emotions darted
I couldn’t shut it down
I became broken hearted
Needing more of the sound

Of your voice, heard round
Me. And every part of you.
needed to be around
I wanted all of you

I need to have all, the whole.
Union of flesh as well as the soul

Every time you touched my face
You called me brother
And I felt like disgrace
Because my feelings were other

Skin hot like a lover
You affection was damning
My smile a cover
Of the pain you were fanning

I hated my standing
Torn on the fence
One foot on your landing
The other intent

On running away from your sighs
and the adoration plain in your eyes

I didn’t know how to feel
I loved you so much
Not knowing how to deal
With hunger for your touch

Was it love or lust?
That drew my eyes
To your petite bust
And voluptuous thighs?

Wrong or right to despise
Myself, to feel a louse
For wanting you to abide
In my own house?

Torn up, I told you my feelings
You went sick, your stomach reeling.

I, your “brother”, no less
Wanted you for more?
This was plain incest
And I was a whore

The bands of union tore
You offended, left with a fight
your friend  no more
Because I didn’t love right

Years since that night
I’ve thought and thought
Relationship’s a rope tight
Upon which we walk

You told me to love you free
And did and loved indeed.

I would have gone back
And kept lying
At first when it was black
and felt I was dieing.

But after much sighing
I now know my statement
It was true love shining
And not abasement

Finished with self effacement
I wanted your body for your soul
Not for lusts enchainment
Intimacy means loving the whole

person, flesh, spirit or other.
Fear of love, not love, made you call me brother.

July 26, 2009 Posted by | atheism, Christianity, poetry, Politics, Religion, Self discovery, Slice of life, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Life, Love, Sex, and Porn

Aching loneliness in my soul
Led me down paths strange
Shoveling cinder and coal
Burying me in burning shame

It seemed a simple thing at first,
Images of women’s kindness
Did amply slake my thirst
And restore in me fineness

But my thirst would not be stayed
By such innocent mintage
Twas like sipping lemonade
But wanting headier vintage

Searching out stranger strangers
Seeing things which ought not.
Watching clips of varied dangers
Finding not that which I sought.

Then, forgetting mad dreams
I flesh and blood pursued
In hope and without schemes
I let myself be used

Steamy pictures o’ erotic tangles
Had awfully prepared me
For a real relationships’ tangles,
Arguments, tears, and pleas

Porn and I then parted ways
Religion was my watchword
I fantasized not of other lays
And followed always cross-ward.

Religion didn’t heal me
From the aching at the start
In fact, it just buried the real me
And broke my aching heart

Investigation of church’s claims
Left me scratching my head
The church had nefarious aims
Obsessed with others’ beds.

So I left the sacred fold
Trading one lonely for another
Finding bits of soul I’d sold
And myself, and my lover

When porn was viewed
By more secular angle
Without religious skew
Or tempting fallen angel

I realized I was never seeking
some erotic chemical high
Twas on beauty I was tweaking
Eros when most shy

To strange pastures I went
Not for tolerance built
To creepy content I was sent
Driven by crushing guilt

Atheism, ironic blessing
Freed me from guilt’s’ bully
To be myself without missing
The parts that are not “holy”

Free from guilt and shame
I view what I find lovely
I’m not driven by pain
And skip what misogyny makes ugly

And I can see clearly
With all the women I view
Real women I loved dearly
And almost always you

My taste has improved
I’m not looking in dark places
With all the shots perused
Trying to find you in their faces

But such an awful thing to say
And even worse to do!
To shape images like clay
To dream of loving you

The dream I often visit
Is us physically together
But, somehow, not illicit
A love that time could weather

I would be scorned
I seek images in replacement
I want to love and be loved in return,
You’d gag at my abasement.

None of them are right
None of them are you
All of them are right
All of them are you

So, to what cannot be
Between us, (though we love you)
Onan and I will  see
What can I substitute

But it would misleading,
To blame only the ‘net
Your image is fleeting
For we’ve nott met yet

Morning dew gleams
Moon beams shine brighter
Life is better it seems
When love’s circle is wider.

I don’t want love to still
At some arbitrarily limit
I do seek a thrill
But only if love gives it.

I want love’s full expression
In context of friendship
Where physical affection
Is compassions apprentice.

So, I am seeking another
to have and to hold
Addition and keeping
Not substitution of old

I want to love with depth
A true equal and partner
But also with breadth
A circle out farther

July 23, 2009 Posted by | atheism, Christianity, poetry, Politics, Religion, Self discovery, skepticism, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Usual crappy poetry.

magdalen

A fallen women

I still dream of you sometimes, and I don’t know why.

Sometimes I am positive the only thing I want from you is the sex we never quite had.

Other times, I think I miss the companionship that we lost in the end.

I don’t know my own mind about you.

And I haven’t known you for so long, it doesn’t even matter anymore.

But some nights, I dream about you.

I wake up in the morning, and you are long gone.

And I miss you, in some way.

July 21, 2009 Posted by | poetry, Self discovery, Slice of life, Uncategorized | , , , | 11 Comments

Dearest

mary
I wish the me I am
could be as good as friends
with the you that you are

As the me you thought I was
Was with the you I thought you were.

May 29, 2009 Posted by | atheism, Christianity, poetry, Religion, Self discovery, skepticism, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Church Eats Her Young.

Posting poetry pretty much kills activity on my blog.  I just can’t tag the poems well to get them read.  Atheism, religion, faith, skepticism.. these are things which people want to read about.  I generally don’t have the skills to write poetry about things like that, but I am working nights of late.  On my days off, I can’t sleep, and since I have 8 hours to write, I took the time to write a poem about my experiences in the church.

I’m not sure how good of a poet I am, so I’ll spell it out a bit before hand.  I was raised a Christian, from day one.  I prayed the sinners prayer as a 2 year old.  My whole life was struggle. I struggled constantly to be the person I was supposed be, to love Christ as he loved me, and do with my life things that would please him.  This was pure misery, but I kept with it because I loved God and wanted to do Right.  I was searching my whole life for people who had something about that God that they could give me so I could enjoy being who God wanted me to be, instead of working so hard for something that only brought me heartache.   Since God is the giver of good gifts, I knew that my pain must come from my failure to love him and not any fault of his.

I now know that I was so unhappy not because I didn’t trust God, but because I tried so hard to trust him.  Had I committed my life to the the ways of Superman, Marge Simpson, or Paul Bunion (other imaginary people of impeccable morals) I am sure I would have had the exact same experience.  Trusting someone who isn’t there to save you isn’t going to work.

I bought my misery with my faith.

The last few years has seen me become a progressively more liberal Christian, then not a Christian at all, and finally, now an atheist. With each shedding of lies and mistruths, my life became more joyful. My highs got higher, and my lows got higher too.

Right now, I am pretty lousy atheist, not in my belief in the Divine, which I think I can safely reject, but in my bitterness at the church. I’m not bitter at Ford for trying to tell me that my life would be better if I drove one, or bitter at Coors for telling me that if I drank their skunky beer, I would be surrounded by beautiful, half dressed woman.  Those too are lies that large organizations tell people to get them to give away their money.  I should have the maturity to shrug my shoulders at the church, and write of the time I spend there chasing unicorns and dragons as a learning experience.  Someday I will, but as of today, I still have to much of my identity invested in the wasted 25 years of my life.

This poem is an attempt to put some of my impotent rage behind me, that I feel for allowing myself to be treated the way I was.  I also write to accept my part in the spiritual abuse of others. Abuse I approved of by continuing to participate in being abused and allowing others to abuse.

I write as tribute to the following people, broken for, by, and near the Church:

Jason, who never gave up.  Paul and all other Z kids who suffered for no good reason. Kat, who prayed everyday for a conscience. Christopher, who joined a cult.  Mom and Dad, who did their best.  Lydia, who endured more pain than I can ever imagine.  Travis, who will never understand.

Holy and true were we

Heads and hearts bowed low

Broken hearted, on bended knee

Our source to you did go

We were born for You

A generation set apart

Our first breath for You

Always seeking Your Heart

We grew up in Your house

Clothed in Your words

Worldly desires doused

For Your presence we burned

Our youth, one dream chased

To live our lives true to Faith

First there was our Father

The reigning King of All

Who’s love and wrath ran like water

Beating us, breaking Adam’s fall

To save us from His wrath

He sent His only Son

Bloody death, His ultimate task

Our sins murdered the Holy One.

And to keep us Right

He sent his Holy Spirit

Teaching us Love’s flight

Lest we fear it

Our youth, one dream chased

To live our lives true to Faith

Last we loved our Divine Mother:

The Church, His Son’s Bride

His Love through Her, our cover

and to one another, our hearts tied.

In each other we saw God

Our love was His reflected

When on each other we trod

The failure ours, God neglected

In Her, His Beloved

We would stay forever curled

Side by side, we Beloved

Loving, apart from the world

Our youth, one dream chased

To live our lives true to Faith

But the eyes grow old

Though the heart does not

Truth be told

Our brothers and sisters fought

And did everything

Which our Father had banned

Sex and drugs and anything

A devious sinner could plan

The Bride was filthy

Her gown in tatters

Tithes and taxbreaks made wealthy

But bankrupted spiritual matters

Our youth, one dream chased

To live our lives true to Faith

We could not complain

The Bride was each other

If she was roughly arraigned

We were failing one another

If Father took away

If Spirit did not heal

All was His any way

Everything in the world

The pot dares not whine

To it’s master the Potter

He made and makes things fine

To Him we would totter.

Our youth, one dream chased

To live our live true to Faith

Led by Fools

With used carman smiles

We buried our tools

And deleted our files

Mastered by louts

And ruled by musicians

We hid from our doubts

And murdered statisticians

The facts were Bible

Anything which disagreed

Was prone to be libel

And not guarenteed

Our youth, one dream chased

To live our lives true to Faith

Questions were good

When they lead right directions

Encouraging one to “Should”

And not source inspections

We, the young set apart

With sharpest of minds

with purest of heart

Were told doubt is what one finds

In a heart full of lust.

Such thoughts were not level

“You’re not one of us…

Your of your father, the Devil.”

Our youths they were wasted

Desperate dreams, never tasted

Sweet mother Church,

You call this defection?

You and us these questions hurt!

We need Your affection

She threw a holy fit

and said, “We will be One.”

I watched in amazment

As she ate us, her young

Our youths, they were wasted

Desperate dreams, never tasted

Unity at any cost?

Dissent must be crushed

We were damned, lost

Under the rug, our questions were brushed.

On the outside

Afraid and alone

Learning she lied

My reason was honed

Free at last

Her “teachings” but splatters

Faithless, with happiness

I know now what matters

Our past, it was wasted

But I sip the Real, a wine rarely tasted

November 9, 2008 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment