May I take this opportunity to be plain and simple.
I've learned by speaking less, listening little,
Reading and watching more.
Let's begin with the beginning, something simple,
Birth.
It's universal, a de facto truism.
We've caused it, done it, feared, dreaded, cherished it.
Birth is like unto us a parable.

Which brings me to religion. From being ditch water
to the moon landing and beyond, we've pursued the ideal through
knowledge. One  of our earliest stories tells we paid dearly for it
too; otherwise we'd have grasped thunder and forgone tresspassing on foreign lands.
A favorite quotation convincingly talks about turning into dust. I've seen the hate and violence, and the bodies unearthed weren't even dust. The ragged clothing looked more like us. I think the most confusing quote is about being in an afterlife with your body.
Why? Who you gonna swim with?  

                  Vestal Virgin Viagra. Maintains an Eternal Erection.

The poet said, Why worry about death. There's nothing to
worry about.

Hmmm!

So, then, what's up with death?
Well, what I know for sure, is that it's a lot like birth,
With one fatal difference.

sophia Aug 5

Your shoe is untied, the nervous man said.
Your shoe is untied, the nervous man said.
Perched on the park bench, coffee breath.
Perched on the park bench, coffee breath.
Bench said, shoe is untied breath.
Perched the, your on the coffee nervous man.

I see through the trees a young building grows.
I see through the trees a young building grows.
And emerald trees and topaz skies brighten its youth.
And emerald trees and topaz skies brighten its youth.
Trees youth the trees young skies building grows.
And emerald the through, young it’s and, topaz brighten I see young.

The nicotine fresh, second-hand smoke.
The nicotine fresh, second-hand smoke.
Clouds the buildings lungs too early for it to care.
Clouds the buildings lungs too early for it to care.
The smoke to care too fresh early.
For hand clogs nicotine buildings clouds the it lungs the.  

Their shoes will always be untied, I always nervous.
Scratched knee on the park bench,
Reassuring coffee breath.
Emerald and topaz brightens the eyes of youth,
Second-hand smoke, they cough.
I care too much, we say good-bye to the building.

How quick we move from labor nurses' hands,
wrapping us in a diaper, to taxidermists',
artfully arranging our limbs in the casket.....
What matters in this moment, this
one great blink of God's eye,*
is not what we own or've done
but the press of flesh upon our flesh;
the feeling; our Communion.

* The lifetime of a human (70 years) is to the lifetime of the universe (14 billion years, so far) as 10 seconds are to the lifetime of a human (2 billion seconds).

Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem:  humanist-art.org/audio/SoF_072_blink.MP3 .
This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems ( humanist-art.org/scrapsoffaith.htm )

in birth i wake
with an overbearing taste
of salt in my mouth.
people are the worst,
i don't want to be one.
but misandry is misdirected
it lacks perspective.

people are the persons
that make up the waves
of eyes and mouths
that i wade into in birth.

and one gentle tide will
wash upon the shore,
that carries me to sea
and i'll be willing to go.
i was assured in birth

chipped tooth Jul 17

if i give birth it will be in the handicap stall of a mall bathroom
on Sunday afternoon
and people are noticing how
i ain’t been to church in a while
and it’s funny
how some spaces, just out of necessity
make themselves into chapels
i don’t have holy water but
i do have this coke zero and
i don’t have wafers but momma
gave me some motrin this morning

if i get married it will be in one of those old dusty dug outs
where someone had scratched
“whore”
into the wall and
daddy’s workin and  momma’s sleepin so
i’m alone standing face to a man and God
i’ll wear my helmet and black face paint coz
i don’t have my Sundays’ best
and it’s funny  
how some spaces, just out of circumstance
must become a chapel

and when i leave Him
some, many nights later
i’ll go to midnight mass
and ask Mother Mary
how a stable must have felt

I was born when the sky opened up
and polluted my mind
with its brown ash--
an initiation of sorts.

I was born again when the wind cleansed my skin
with its ferocity--
an invitation to breathe from the surface.

Chris Neilson Jul 10

It's said the 2 best days
of your life
are the day you're born
and the day
you find out why

Once achieved we can all
shuffle off this mortal coil
fulfilled
content
happy

A profundity

it just a starts  towards the final destination called death
but roots are not specified for it.
so every new born is a story teller ,
he tells a new story which state a cause of a birth,
with the tense called past and verb called live
and noun called he/she.
sorry, there is no alternative climax for it
and no questions at all. fill in the blanks of each irrelevance-
with the adverb which is “fate”.

Next page