hell is just
the church's
basement

People often ask,

       "why am I an atheist,

  Did you not read the book..

                     And I answer,

you have just given the
                                 resolution  
for which you seek the answer to.

but even as an atheist,
being in his arms
felt like heaven
to me.

the red wine stops fermenting
a young man turns to gray
the voice of truth and promise
leads one and all astray

we follow with a notion
of what may be ahead
that voice of truth and promise
has risen from the dead

I never clasped hands tightly,
        as all I got was pins & needles.

Showing me that everything I prayed
                             for was just a numbness,
  
                             of ill prepared needing.

I heard every word that needed
                       my vocal assistant.

Not realising that I was the one that
  needed to answer my own wishes.

               Every request was a promise,
                      to myself to make myself better.

I'll never apologize for my ignorance,
                but ill build on my failings,


              and I'll build higher than the


                                  ignorance that

kept my hands shackled.

   Not realising that I needed

to grasp higher than the blindness of
  never reaching higher than hands clasped

And the blind venture on the misgivings
          of what they do not see.


But heed whispers from
         a snakes tonuge,
to bite them upon there vulnerabilities.

Seeping Ill words beneath
                             there morality.

Man does not need the whispers
of snakes to control them,
but the reality of humanity.


To  awaken the truth
                    that were just human.

How fragile must the skin of those that
                      need to feel that they are owed
                                  something from nothing.


Are owed or are grateful for waking up.  
                    Yet not taking on the fragility of life,
                    that others though they held
                there hands up high
were now silent beneath the gaze
  of tearful eyes asking
                                   why, why, why...

Thanking something that wasn't apart
               of that moment but more
             every action has a reaction.

We must realise that life is a random consequence
                                                               of our actions.

And no rabbits foot,
              or palms crushed together till numb.

Will change the fact that the world is a random,
                               chaotic path..

If wake up its because we were lucky,
                  because were all going to take
that wrong step sometime...

And no hands held high
                  or silent words will ever change that.

God is a delusion of the weak.
              If you need someone
               to cuddle you.

Then you are not a man
                         but a child.

But those who have grown


know that morality

is in the heart of humanity.

For those who listen to whispers,

                   must realise
that it's just the wind
                               playing tricks.

For what was before  is a question unknown,
        but we shall not bow to fear
        and the misguided reverance of


                                uneducated gods.

             For the universe existed before them and so did man.

One day we may find answers,
         but not within false wanting.
     We must reach for the stars
and search ourselves.

Not to cower in lack of knowledge
                       which we do not have yet.

Collapsing emotions
            corrode on my
          ****** perfection.

What was diminishing,
   now collecting in a cup
            of palmed hands collected.


I wanted to no that of your
               miracles,
                            that even
though tears fell,
you never turned

            those now memory to a wine
                         of hope...

Auschwitz was a million
                  tears choked,
but you never turned
a single tear
               to a vintage of peace.


We just choked on the tears,
     and we were a vineyard
                         of silence.


Each a grape that never reached
               maturity.

Instead we fell before we could become
              more that we were.
These tears are sour,
and the taste
                erodes every fallen tears morality.