It’s 2:12am
My red eyes scan every detail of my ceiling,
Trying to find any sense of consistency in the bland drywall.
Rain gently taps against my open window.
The smell of cedar fills the empty space.
A space she hasn’t occupied in nearly six months.
The lights are too bright,
Magnified by my misty eyes.
Wisps of smoke curl around my chapped lips,
Filling in the bleeding cracks.
Our album plays on a loop
Until the storm takes out the power.
I read the scribbled words that she so obviously left for me.
A best friend, an ex lover, an enemy, she calls me.
And I don’t know which of these ideas I hate the most.

Rise!* Oh, Mighty Jupiter;
Our Father now forgotten.
Come claim your rightful reverence.
Your pagan pedigree misgotten.

You were once our Shining Father;
Great King of all the Sky.
But you allowed your world to set
so a new Son could arise.

Zeus once ruled before you, and
Jesus became your heir.
Today not many realize
how we got from here to there.

I have considered for some moments
how our thoughts of god do change.
Plural notions of so long ago,
today can seem so strange.

We like to think we've come so far,
since those pagan days of yore.
Have we abandoned superstition
or just embraced it even more?

It was millennia ago
that Zeus ruled Mount Olympus.
He, their leader, more than father,
often beaten by hubris.

The Greeks, they worshiped leaders,
seeking standing in this forum.
Such desires, democratic
became their gods that ruled before them.

As the centuries moved on,
your new Latin home was Roma.
Your title too, transformed
to reflect a new persona.

To Zeus we added "Father",
or in Latin, pater, we prefer.
So Zeus, becomes Zeus-pater,
Zupater, then Jupiter.

Our names for gods reveal
exactly how they fill our needs.
Over time our needs evolve
and so a new name supersedes.

As Rome aged, it developed  
a need to know god as a man.
To be one of his number.
To see themselves as of his clan.

This zeus, he can be talked to,
can be greeted and be known.
They "Hail Zeus" as HeyZeus.
And now its Jesus on the Throne.

Through such inquests we can see
the needs Gods fill evolving,
from cold, covetous Kings
to a begotten Son absolving.

We imagine in the Heavens
things to help us understand,
how a universe so endless
can be the realm alone of man.

We are thousands of miles away
But In my heart you will forever stay
Our drifting souls become a cluster
As the bonds we make tighten faster

Our souls may be two separate entities
But they are bound by a single link
Which are our shared qualities
Lettered on the dotted line in ink

- E.A.F

Peace is no option,
hate sowed in every row of land
from coast to coast,
they stole everything but the sea.
A country founded on thievery,
an empire, starving for conquests,
a people that are nourished by exploitation,
the blood of minorities waters roots placed deep,
The stark white flowers turn pink in their petals.

And we admire their beauty.

Hatred walks with a rifle,
so peace is no option.
He does not have a weapon,
that could do any harm,
without a heart full of hate behind it.
Driven by fear,
fueled by confusion,
a bullet flies blindly.

The man who creates is not a criminal,
but is he who follows a path shaped by fire,
burning the colors that lived there before.
The man who believes in soverignty of his country,
at the cost of another.
The man who believes love could cause harm,
armed with a poisonous thought.

The barrel is only a conduit;
so shoot the palette,
splatter the colors,
our sisters and brothers,
alike they lay in one silent painting;
the white canvas will always stay
as clean as they say.it should.

Peace is no option,
when war is a game,
painting with blood
since the very first day.