The Nun asked her Lesbian Pupil,
‘Why must you flaunt your homosexuality,
with your dress and extravagant manner?’
And the surprised Lesbian asked the Nun,
‘Why must you flaunt your celibacy,
with your habit and stern manner?’
Any being with half my intelligence would quickly become bored with our species. Thus, whatever governs and controls us, has no hope of ever hearing any prayers, praise, or supplications from me.
If whatever made us,
And governs us,
Can hear us,
I ask you to please protect the kind religious people,
Whom I’ve met in all corners of the world,
And of all persuasions!
Please keep them free of the confidence,
That turns believers into self-appointed authorities!
Please let their beliefs cause them,
To be kind to kind people,
And tolerant of peaceful alternatives,
Even when they contradict their own!
This rare breed still exists,
Barely…
Please don’t let them go extinct!
Save them from the mobs,
Who believe to have found,
The Answer,
The Key,
The Truth,
Which they would then apply to all people,
Even by force when necessary!
This is my greatest fear for humanity!
And if my requests interest you in the slightest,
And this poem be justifiably called a prayer,
Please take my wishes into consideration!
Thank you for your time!
Life is one long day for me,
Containing dark and light cycles,
And certainly not divided into sets of seven.
I get the moon’s rotations,
And, hence, the months.
I also get the sun’s rotations,
And, hence, the cycles of seasons.
But why the seven-day week?
Aside from the Bible,
And its six-day-creation bit –
What sense is there in seven-day week cycles?
Thus, time is one long day for me,
Containing dark and light cycles,
And certainly not divided into sets of seven!
If the bible wouldn’t have stoned people
For fucking outside their marriage,
(Even when married to impotent,
or tired carpenters)
Then Mary wouldn’t have had to lie about her impregnation.
In which case virginity would never have become so exalted.
In which case billions of little girls,
Over hundreds of generations,
Wouldn’t have had to fear penetration,
(Even by fingers, or vegetation).
In which case their billions of admirers,
Could easily have been their lovers,
Causing less frustration,
And masturbation,
And whores,
And VD induced sores,
And, ultimately, fewer wars.
Therefore I say,
‘Fuck the bible,
And its warnings,
And atonings,
And whippings,
And stonings,
And let’s try to start a new chain reaction,
Producing peaceful men,
At peace with themselves,
And, thus,
(At least potentially)
At peace with others.’
Are you blessed with the magic gift?
Can you rise and compose a prayer?
A symbol of hope,
The genuine sound and flavor,
Make a persuasive case,
For the sake of fantasy?
Let it shine,
And scream,
And beam with joy!
Sing with ecstasy!
Contagious ecstasy!
The dream shining through,
As a lure,
To rise to it!
To at least try a bit!
The attempt being all we have access to,
On a regular basis…
Let it catch on,
And spread,
Like a shower,
Of refreshing promise!
Do you have the strength,
To compose such a prayer,
While being down,
And trodden upon,
By life’s quirky glitches,
Your own expectations,
Your own shattered dreams?
Do you have the strength?
Then go ahead and rise,
And dream for us all!
Sing for us all!
Help us all,
See some light,
And hope,
Even if it all be an illusion!
At least it will alleviate,
And numb,
For a while!
Give it a go,
And may god be with you!
Amen!