a few weeks back an
acquaintance
of mine, and i were playing
hacky sack
with one of those mini bibles that they hand out
we were making jokes about how we were those
atheists
your parents warned you about

today i saw a guy i used to go to church with
he seemed well off and happy
and i found myself being happy for him
given his circumstances in the past few years

i'm not quite sure what made me start hating religion
it makes so many people happy
it gives so many people purpose
and i used to love this purpose giving
faith driven
machine
but now i find myself giving god the *******
and giving god a little g
and putting god on my shelf, collecting dust
just like that bible i used to hold dear.

maybe it was depression that made me start hating religion
that's what i always blame it on.
depression
that's a dangerous thing.
i've just noticed that my belief in a higher deity began to
deteriorate
as soon as i started getting sadder
it was almost synonymous
then when i started getting
happier
my beliefs continued to become less and less.

in church they always talked about the story of job
the man who had so much faith
that through all of the **** god put him through
he still remained faithful.
i remember one point in my life i tried explaining that to one of my
atheist
friends.
he told me he didn't understand
and that it was really ****** of god to do something like that.
i tried to explain it
but i found myself at a loss for words
he now attends church regularly and we don't
speak
anymore.

perhaps it was the feeling of rebellion that made it fade
it's difficult being raised in a religious household
so that the one moment when i tasted freedom from the
choking
restraints
my parents put on me
i couldn't get enough of it.
cause let's face it
sin is fun
and i haven't been able to stop ever since.

i'm happy when people are happy with religion
i was much happier with religion
but i can't find myself to go back to it
no matter how hard i try the idea of god
or some form of higher being
just doesn't give me the same
feeling
that it used to.
i wish i could say it did.
sorry, god.

There she stood
silently
not one word was uttered
but no word was needed to
for she conveyed any beautiful and
lovely
word that could come out of her small pretty mouth.
What am I to do?
I stand there silently as well
watching her
waiting on her
waiting for her
to come over here and call me all those lovely words.
Not like I’m fishing for compliments or anything,
but for the lone fact that any lovely
word
that could come out her mouth towards me
would mean everything.
But I stand there
shy
still
quiet
afraid, for the fact that my loveliness could never
match
hers.
And so I cast my eyes upon the ground
where I belonged,
until I see the
prettiest
pair of feet I’ve ever seen
and as I look up I see eyes
so gorgeous
and she says to me “I love you.”
For she is a prize to be won
that I have already obtained.
I love you too.

I'm not a poet
I'm a self proclaimed genius with a pen
with thoughts running through my head
like gazelles in the plains of Africa
and I'm just waiting for a lion
to come swallow them up
and finally give me a good
idea
a good idea that rests on your
mouth like a Listerine patch
and comes out in a cool minty breath
a good idea that is so
easily shared amongst the masses
and is of the ability to make them
cry
laugh
smile
think
but how can I make them think
when I can't even think of a good
idea
besides, who is this 'them'
that I'm trying to please?
and how can I please 'them'?
with a notebook full of
scribbled out sentences
and torn out pages
both results of my rage
and yes, I write a lot about writers block
because writers block is so evident to me
and I see a whole lot of words
like butterflies in a field
and I'm without a net to catch them
and I just stand there staring
wishing I could piece them all together
but, if I write about writers block often
then is writers block something to write about
therefore I don't have writers block?
I don't know
I'm not a poet
I'm just a teenagers with writers block
just trying to catch butterflies

-Slang

You came back with rage again
You stupid, freaking, angry pen
I used to think that we were friends
But that seems to be coming to an end
You're an angry pen
A crazy pen
I don't like you one bit
You're a lazy pen
A stupid pen
A freaking baby nudist pen
And I Hate You
I want to write but you're too busy distracting me
With you're incorrect grammar and all your pointless babbling
I can't believe this is happening
How can a pen be mad at me?
I feel like a disciple and this pen is just a Sadducee
And I'm *******, again
But this time it's going to stay
All I wanted to do was play
But this pen led me astray
And I hate it
Every little click makes me cringe
Every little word I write makes me want more revenge
But lets face it...
What exactly would I do a pen?
Instead of taking it a part and putting it back together again
Well, it depends...
But honestly pens don't really make good friends
You rusty pen
You musty pen
You mother freaking ugly pen!
I hate you pen!
I breake you pen!
I can't wait to look down from Heaven and see your face in hell.