Mary made a monster
mankind made a bomb

it’s all a fairytale gone wrong
we took the make believe
and made the horror real

history learned nothing
from all of that destruction
who forgot to read the book
that taught us our place
was not to play
the part of god

Mary made a monster
mankind made a bomb

the blood keeps spilling
as we still haven’t learned
that peace can’t be kept
by the threat and poor wisdom
of an eye for an eye
and a tooth for a tooth

who can we pray to
and beg for forgiveness
for the hell we create
when by this point
we’re past knowing better

Mary made a monster
mankind made a bomb

we’re still not the wiser
as we repeat and repent
all of our sins
as again and again
we dress for the part
of playing god

and as the book ends
may the monster forgive us
for all the things
we have done

Human existence
Is a story
Accident or miracle?
An accident, for sure,
But could it not be both?
We
Are alive
And so am
I
Something from nothing,
Is that not miraculous?
People talk a lot
About Human nature
As if We are The Stone
When We are The Mountain
Of The Earth and Our
Image in The Lake
Reveals The Truth of Gods
Our Dominion is the
Consciousness We give away
To get back when We
Know
So for sure
It does not
Work
Not at all like that
I will explain it
All for my child
Under the light of day
Make no mistake
We have Made this place
Where
Currency determines
Which of Us will ascend
And it has been
For me all my life
That's when I look at you
And see you for the first time
A piece of The Soul
Welcomed to an entrance
Among Our every new
Where Our Elders sit
In circles of no clarity
Selling songs, selling food,
Selling news, selling views,
Selling Us modes of Life
Pandered to preselected groups
Test and Market approved
And Selling it as soon as through
Our parents who Would
Paper Our deepest wombs

We can thrive as a planet
or die as a species
and our egos may argue otherwise
but it will go extinct and wither
quicker than our bones will dry
and all the false currency
we gave our time to
will crumble in its uselessness
as life will go on without it

and those who thought themselves
immortal under the grace of god
who thought their sins against life
forgiven by the repetition
of hollow words
while burning down
the home around him
will drown in the waters
of their meaningless baptisms
and life will go on without us
as it had before
and as it will long after
any memory of our existence
has any light or thought

and yet today we still breath
today there is still hope
still a chance
to thrive as a planet
to survive as a species
to stand against
the ego of our minds
and follow the wisdom
of our hearts

You used to play with words.
You used to dance to the sounds they'd make as they wound their way through the cogs in your brain.

You used to savor the way a juicy one would linger on the tip of your tongue,
while surrendering to the pleasure of a proper pronunciation.

You used to wear your words
as a fashion statement,
the scope and shape of the connotations beneath only ever subtly hinted at;
An enticing invitation to think.

You used to play with your words.
You turned it into an art.
But now you only use them to get something you want.

If I'm wrong, I die.
I cease to exist.
But I know what it's like not to exist.
Or at least I can imagine.

I didn't exist before I did.
For billions of years.
And Mark Twain was right.
It didn't bother me in the slightest.

But I'll give it a chance.

I will read Awake!
And I'll visit the Hall.
And I'll use your name for God.
Jehovah.

But what if you're wrong?
You feel joy, love, peace.
Meaning, purpose, certainty.
Those things elude me.

But what else?
Fear? Guilt? Isolation?
A hatred that you call pity?
Those things are beyond my reach.

An education cut short?
A marriage too long?
"Don't talk to her.
It's for her own good."

What if it's not?

There will always be people trying to hurt you.
It's easier when they have God on their side.

"Two eyes saw this, but two others did not.
I'll take my reward now.
Did I mention I'm good with kids?"

What if you're wrong?

Sure, your Tower is tall.
It dwarfs my cathedral.
And it does.
I stand in awe.

Your Tower is tall.
It Watches all things.
And it does.
But is it tall enough to see Clearwater?

You know, Celebrity Centers and personality tests.
Cruise and Travolta.
Your names are different: Michael Jackson and Prince.
But the songbook is the same.

Leadership is accountable to no one.
Dissent is a **** that must be eliminated.
The world is out to get you.
And critical thinking is a trap.

Families are vital (until they aren't).
Our authority will not be questioned.
We make no mistakes.
But we do become more perfect over time.

"But it's not 'disconnection,' it's disfellowship.
And they're not 'suppressives,' they're apostates.
And we live in no bubble.
But we'd rather not debate you."

"Besides, they're new.
They're small and they're few.
They have strange beliefs.
That's what matters, right?"

But it's not.
It's not what matters.

And it's not in my nature to hurt people.
I can **** when it's justified.
But I don't know that this is justified.

And consider the life of a poor, worldly soul.
Fear is no friend.
Guilt is a memory.
(Guilt for things that warrant no guilt.)

We see the world as it is.
Science is no threat.
Solitude is a choice, not a lesson.

Education is full.
Abuse is reported.
Families talk.

We are slaves to no Slave.

Of course these things are foreign to you.
Your book precludes them.
And your book is infallible.
But so are all the others.

So thank you for visiting, but I'm hedging my bets.
I wish you the best, but I'd rather take death.