Posts Tagged ‘religion’

You move in colors
like the night.

to my alien eyes.

This, I eat,
in remembrance of you.

You, digested,
are part of me,

but I am never part
of you.


Photo credit, Brian Snelson

I have them:
blue –

or grey
depending on
the day.

Grey hair
at my temples,
blends so well
with blonde,
few can tell
how old I am.

Two lips too,
do what lips do.
When they’re
not uncertain.

Other pieces,
fairly standard:
just one nose,
two arms and legs.
Things line up
From an outsider’s

Inside’s where things
get tricky.
There are more people
in here
than there should be,
and that’s not counting

Who am I?
I’m one of many.
All sharing the same
crooked smile.

Same lips
have other
and these ears
hear singular things.

We all share
this body.
But we have different
unique habits,
age and gender.

Figure that out,
if you can,
and if you do,
tell me.

The whole thing
has me puzzled.

With so many
we’s in me,
I’m not even sure
who’s confused

Is it only me?

Pretense and subterfuge.
Nothing’s genuine.
Even the teeth are false.
Every story carefully groomed
to elicit certain emotions.

Character on a stage;
nothing real shows,
at first.

truth crawls out.
Nothing stays hidden forever.

Revealed for what
they truly are,
the sociopath becomes cruel.
Desperate to actually be capable of
the feelings they casually fake.

Devoid of true emotion,
morals or integrity,
they bluff their way through life,
carry the Bible, the Big Book,
wear crosses or cassocks,
business suits or shining armor…
any costume to seem respectable –

To seem human,
be what they can never be;
feed on fantasy
like vampires.

Scrutiny reveals
lifelong patterns of theft, addiction;
adultery, deception of all sorts.
All, of course, misunderstandings.
Poor innocents, led astray
by the siren’s call.

In the world of the sociopath,
responsibility always
belongs to someone else.


***Caution to viewers. This video can be triggering/upsetting. It contains images that can be disturbing. Be safe.***
This is to provide information about this very misunderstood disorder that affects aproximately 1% of the world’s population.
The disorder is very real. As someone diagnosed with it, I know for a fact that it is.
(for those who are going to ask which song this is… it’s “About her” From the Kill Bill soundtrack)
Video & caution by MaxP0wer25 on youtube
Song Scarlet by Brooke Fraser, video by Bcciliz
video by castorgirl
Directed by Trevor Sands, posted on youtube by InsideShort
This is part 1 of 8 of a series called MPD / DID – Trauma based Mind Control – it’s well worth the time it takes to watch, if you want to understand DID.

Stained Glass Jesus

in humility.

finds me.

Candles burn low –
guttering flames
send up smoke;
a silent SOS.

I have failed
this test of faith
without even
really trying.

“F” marks the spot:
with Scarlet Letters:
Failed Fucking Freak.

Bow my head,
face in my hands.
It’s all coming apart
at the scars.

I don’t even
know who I am.
I ask a stained glass Jesus

There’s no answer.
There never is,
no matter who I ask.

God is something
you desire so much,
you crave him like something sweet:
mint chocolate chip ice cream or
better yet, an Oreo but only the real thing.
No false idols for you…those bastard
impostors with their thinly hid lies.

Every time you stick a Double Stuff
Oreo cookie to the roof of your mouth
and let it melt while you drink milk,
that’s God, trickling down your throat –
his chocolaty goodness mixing with
your own saintly aroma of cinnamon
and sweets, like the incense from a censer
swung by an over-zealous priest,
knocking off your school boy cap,
and forcing you to beg
for that special wafer
he carries just for you.

It’s a relief
to finally let you go,
though I held you
through all kinds of weather;
Shielding you like a cupped hand
‘round an ember.

I carried you on my head at times,
on especially inclement days;
made an ark of myself and
floated high on rough water
while you cowered inside,
hiding your eyes.

Now on this high peak
shored up by dry stones,
I send out that lone dove, my heart.
Over desolate waste –
water murky with death;

the bird returns clutching hope.

Sabbath bells
harsh message rings;
angels triumphed
somewhere else.

One-way conversations
with God don’t go very well;
like awkward first dates,
you can’t wait to get home
to comfortable friends.
They don’t say much either,
but are loyal and true –
Blessed be bottle and pill.
There are lots of paths
to that sweet oblivion.

Eyes in the mirror again,
pupils so big,
they’re like black water:
ponds of introspection.

In their depths, swims
vivid, pained exhaustion.

I live and I am weary.

At a display
of religious art
tortured faces beckon.
I’m drawn
into pain.

A gaunt, hollow
made manifest here.
A hunger.
A burning.
A thirst for more
represented by dark figures
with sunken cheeks and
upturned eyes.
There is beauty here.

Hidden beneath my fat,
a terrible thinness
cries out
to be fed.

O’ My Father

Posted: April 3, 2010 in My Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , ,

O’ Father of the Blackened Eye,
I worship you with spit.
Creator of all that is ugly,
in Thine image I am made.

And Thy name is Pain
and Anger and Sorrow:
You are legion in your names.

I hate the very word of you
with your black and blue message
of love.

Manifestation of evil.
You are a god in your own right.
King of the castle,
Lord of the roost,
and Destroyer of my soul.

Audio Reading