The Pleasant Difference ‘Tween The Spiritual & Scriptural

How to say this briefly:
How to find words for the inexpressible.
They exist.
Here is the gist:
Components - churches, sects, cults,creeds:
The claim of being chosen.
Inner spirit doesn’t need a system woven
Into scripture claiming knowing
What is best for all.
One wherein if you’re good you rise
And if you’re bad you fall.

The faith-based places emphases
On unity of life within the mixture of belief;
Consensus, peace and joy, and getting these;
Transcendent over time and space,
The sense that you are face to face
With truth above reality,
Its indescribability.

Not impossible to voice
With Love that comes, fear that goes!
******, no, more loving kindness big & small,
Universal, if you will.
Permeating, calibrating,
Affixing to an All that’s spirit: all in all.

Practices to help along:
Meditation, psilocybin, prayer and song.
The non- theistic preference
Needs to be demystified,
With road for genius or dunce.
Not piety, religion, magic, paganism, or god-based;
Theological or physical,
But meta-, deeply meaningful,  
Yes mystical:
The core of all.

The Pleasant Difference ‘Tween The Spiritual & Scriptural 4.4.2017
To The Child Mystic II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Nature Of & In Reality;
Arlene Corwin

I see and I love, but I close my eyes and I picture you.
It's folded, lost color, and burnt beyond recognition.
Each night I leave it on your doorstep.
And each day, I love.

But I always close my eyes again.

i like angry poetry
the kind that churns
in your gut,
with razors for teeth
and gums bleeding.
i like the violent sound
of verbs clashing
on a decaying page,
like the shot of a gun
on a quiet day.
i like the poetry that stays,
that lies in waiting
like a dog in a cage,
words that creep like
voided birds into the
wired tress of my brain,
that pay their rent
like drunken travelers
and trash the place.
i like angry poetry
the kind that sears it's
screams to my lips,
which spirit echoes and
moans for eager,
****** eyes.
words that hit like *****,
giving their reader
a killer hangover.
i like angry poetry,
the kind that leave you
with a smoky exit.

If you were told you have one week
Before the end of life is reached

Tell the truth,  what would you do
Would this news change your attitude

Would you try your best to find
All those you have known through life

That have helped you to this point
Before that last heartbeat is gone

Thanking them for the helping hand
The selflessness on which they stand

Would you then make amends with
All the ones you have offended

And how many times would the word love
In conversations be brought up

I'm thinking that it might be best
If we all lived like there was one week left

Every now and then I gotta sweep the floor
Carry out requests like a common *****
But I do it / I'm pushing through it
It's who I am

They tell me not to listen to the men in suits
But after the sermon they lie to you
I'm not easy / you'd best believe me
It's who I am

I've gotta find a woman or at least a man
Love is only accepted if you've got a plan
I'm indecisive / it's the way I live
It's who I am

Maybe when you're wealthy we'll become friends
Because money's never caused a connection to end
But can I borrow / a few tomorrows?
It's who I am

I drive to wherever the world ends
I doubt I'll ever see any of you again
But I love you / I'm thinking of you
It's who I am