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Even the most devout Christians
accept that Jesus was a guy
guys get ***** as do gals.

Yes, all of us have a creator in us
starlight
life-creating energy
poetry
and prose.

Maybe Jesus didn’t have the kind of darkness in him
that we have
the kind of drag
of pride and self-centeredness
that I have,
but by God!
he was faced with the same choices
between fidelity and desire
between horniness and selfless love.

Yep I fail in ways he did not
but he failed to get rid of lust just like I do
he failed to avoid selfish desires.
Of course, I act on them
and ***** up in ways he did not.
But do you think he didn’t feel ******* up at times?
Of course he did.

All of this humanity
is what makes me like him.
Jesus was a guy.
That he was more
is what makes me love him.
My mama had pictures of Jesus with rouge and a pretty face in our home. I never did like those pictures of him. Then I saw a picture of Salvadore Dali's Christ of St. John of the Cross. That's the kind of Jesus I could relate to as a teenager and young man. When I got my own apartment I got a print of that picture of this man on the cross. It captivated me and set me on a path to pursue this guy who was human and hairy like me. At that time in my life and for the rest of it, I did not like an overly divinized Jesus, a Jesus that made him less than human.
 Mar 2022 Seranaea Jones
Traveler
How subtle
the slippery sloppy slopes
one must proceed
with pickaxes and high hopes!

Mindfulness is a must
a drifting thinker can loses touch
like a guru-less shaman
drunk on lunch!

The divine road is calling
prepare the fattened calf
The effect’s of the cool aid
we’re never meant to last
The steeple penetrates
the puffy pink
clouds, and the
horizon squirts
sweet rain.
My face gets
sticky.
Guess the theme.
i quicken, not for the ghostyard
but its house, whose monotheist
message,  the missionary's charge,
has long eclipsed the sacred mist
that birthed my sacrilegious soul,
which worships wood unscarred by nails-
cascading birch, midsummer pole--
a rotted stump the missing grail.
i've seen the sun come through the leaves
to wake the boys who stayed up late,
young satyrs with their lust relieved,
imagining the girls they'd date.
we had no parson preaching sin,
no other world to lose or win.
 Mar 2022 Seranaea Jones
Khoisan
I remember
the deserved reprimand
it reminds me
of the dearly departed
my mother and my dad
thus
I thankfully treasure
the unreachable hand
rebuke
the unteachable mind.
Proverbs twenty-two v six
I carry her with me
a silver sun
Her shade cool
like praise
for pretty girls

Mad and
hair full of venom
she leaves their
mouths agape
flesh to stone  

she is awe-ful
the curse of hideous
she fears nothing
but the forgotten
empty of the black void...
In the twilight, amid the cacophony of a birthing evening light
the scent of petrichor, boardwalk talks in standstill time  
Discarded yellow buckets feet of clay that toed in tight,  
imperviously swift to a descending sun your eyes in slow met mine  
suddenly you were a somber California boy in my parade  
I was quick to draw a spell with the magic  of my jade
Magical Spells
A sorcery of love
Girl meets boy
In the most clandestine way
California land of dreams  
Another place another time, love bloomed with grace
crystal ball fantasies, we both flew from place to place  
Married
A
Girl
Infatuatedly
Crazy
in the twilight, amid the cacophony of a birthing evening light
she walked me to the beach, then introduced me to the night.
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