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 Jun 2014 Deneka Raquel
Kvothe
I feel I've found a home,
in this self-deprecating zone.
Like minded...
and I don't mind likeness.
Kites though,
I do like those.
Soaring without care,
but carefully full of direction,
directly diverging from our reflection.
The zenith of our spirit,
battered but full of its name.
See that's the beauty,
it still fights,
and takes flight,
though it struggles all the same.
Let it fight.
Let it stumble.
Let it rise from the ashes like a phoenix.
stronger for it's struggle.
My spirit will be a kite.
No lightning strikes my tether.
My spirit will be a kite...

...and it will defy the whims of weather.
 Jun 2014 Deneka Raquel
jellica
you
 Jun 2014 Deneka Raquel
jellica
you
Why can't you just love me…
Accept me how I am..
im just
F
   A
L
    L
I
    N
G
For you…
Does evil exist?
Well, does it, or not?
I demand an answer
And if it does, hold that thought

Because if wrong does exist
We must face the reality
That calling something wrong means
There's a right way things ought to be

But if wrong does not truly
Exist in bright colors
Well, what, then is justice
But a meaningless construct?

If the **** of a child
In all histories and cultures
Can be called pure evil
Even by society's worst prisoners

If the ****** of innocents
Is forever and always
An evil in society
That can't be tolerated

If imprisonment of a woman
Like chattel for sale
Being held as a *** slave
In her own private hell

Or murdering Jews
Like ******'s evil plan
Or starving millions unjustly
In Stalin's Ukraine

Or killing the masses
For political expedience
Culling babies in China
Or locking up dissidents

If beheading of heretics
Is inherently wrong
Or even violating your privacy
Or invading your home

If these are universally bad
And there's meaning in words
Then there's universal good
That our souls are drawn toward

Something more than just philosophy
Because that lacks authority
And if good is defined by the majority
Then what about the minority?

Tyrants run roughshod
When rights come and go
At the whims of the powerful
Because what they say goes

No, evil is something
More than laws, or from cultures
Or philosophical sophistry
From ivory towers

To try to stop badness
Is really to defend
That there's a god of pure goodness
Who wants us like him

We can discuss who that god is
And what is his substance
But the least we can do
Is acknowledge his existence

You can say that religion
Starts evil wars and such
And you might just be right
But you've just proved too much

Because if there is no god
Whose nature defines goodness
Who are you to call war bad
Or **** evil, or hate, darkness?

Who are you to sit in judgment
Of the religious who you think hate you?
If there is no moral standard
That makes hate wrong, and judging too?

If morality is nothing more
Than just a social contract
Then it's just he said/she said
And there's no moral compass

You see, your compass is as good as mine
And that may be fine, generally
Until the ****** asserts his own
Warped idea of morality

What makes his wrong
And yours universally right?
That's a tough question
That keeps philosophers up at night

Because indeed, if there is no god
There's no guilt to assuage
For the wrongs that man does
Because there is no such gauge

It's like measuring empty
Without knowing what full is
Or like trying to describe love
Without knowing who God is
To all those who know deep inside there's a god who created you to be good, but you keep trying to convince yourself otherwise.
1

Ever musing I delight to tread
The Paths of honour and the Myrtle Grove
Whilst the pale Moon her beams doth shed
On disappointed Love.
While Philomel on airy hawthorn Bush
Sings sweet and Melancholy, And the thrush
Converses with the Dove.
2

Gently brawling down the turnpike road,
Sweetly noisy falls the Silent Stream —
The Moon emerges from behind a Cloud
And darts upon the Myrtle Grove her beam.
Ah! then what Lovely Scenes appear,
The hut, the Cot, the Grot, and Chapel queer,
And eke the Abbey too a mouldering heap,
Cnceal'd by aged pines her head doth rear
And quite invisible doth take a peep.
 Jun 2014 Deneka Raquel
courtney
I can't remember the prescription they gave me, but I remember
your name being somewhere on it; for peace they said.
For stability, simply apply a dose of presence
every minute of every hour,
and the pain
will settle.

(C) 21/6/14
Courtney L
 Jun 2014 Deneka Raquel
SG Holter
I now know
Why little girls crying
Into teddies say they're
Dying.
Now I know that none of
My songs of heart-

Break were real. I had
No idea.
None.

It's like holding your breath
When you know that that car is
Not going to
Stop.

It's the chill down your neck when
You learn that somebody
Just like you
Passed away. Suddenly.

It's the feeling of knowing you're
Losing your grip on the roof of
A burning
Skyscraper. Air.

A soldier, a landmine.
Looking down to see
That your body
Is broken.
Broken.

I now know why country music
Is so close to God at all times.
Why amputees grieve over
Lost limbs.
Why girls cry and boys drink.

It's going to bed, certain that  
The sun will not
Rise in the morning.
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