winter liturgy
the falling snow sworn silent
when you understand yourself alone
and all is forfeit
to the promise of a song

If forgiveness was easier for mortal men,
Would it still be considered divine?
If love was simpler for us,
Would people still point at a cross?
If patience was commonplace,
Would they still read dying scriptures?
If acceptance was innate,
Would they need to yell at all?

Vacant pews and busy street corners,
Communion wine misplaced,
The preacher's statements laced,
With the same sins they say were paid for.

The shrinking congregation doesn't believe anymore.
No one does.
But they can keep looking for a savior,
In every place but inside themselves.

We are all filled with the divine light,
Brighter than the sun.
The cosmic radiance we seek is behind the eyes,
Darkened windows that speak our gospel,
We Are God.

i really like contrast, and the way the universe juxtapositions things in my life. yin and yang.

like ******* in a church parking lot.
or getting blackout drunk in my bedroom while an a.a. meeting takes place in my living room.
like being a gay atheist who drives to work at a southern baptist college on sundays after church.

Her body is made from recycled materials; her mother's eyes and father's nose. Her voice is filled with church hymns and sharp sarcasm. The lacey white dress she wears to church is only for the daytime, and it fades with the night. She carries her masks like her LSD in her bible. She is a tightrope dancer, a balancing act under the big top of her community. If she falls, the crowd will attack; swarm in with violent screams and brand her body sinful. She has always been to much to handle. Her presence is strong, known. She has the holy fire in her belly and yet smoke is anything but of a higher power. She has always known the higher power, more so than anyone. But as of late she as felt more distance between her humble place on Earth and the high heavens above and she is desperate to fill the gap. Poppin' pills from kids she doesn't know the name of and drinkin' cheap liquor that makes her remember there is a devil. And she dances with him every night. As of late, she has found a home in his fire and brimstone. It is warmer than the chilling stares of judgment she feels in between the pews. Everyday is judgment day. The haze consumes her and she can't tell where its coming from rather she doesn't care because it fills the gap. She is so high, she whispers to him,
"I can see God."
" I see him and he is something sinful."

Cigarette ash on the dashboard on the way to confession-- I fell in love with a stranger down the street.

I never go to church, never been one to admit to god I was wrong or he was right.  I wouldn't say I'm much of a believer in the unknown.

I never say my prayers. Figured if the moment was right maybe something would finally work in my favor.

He walked by in tight red pants and a black button up shirt. Sunglasses on and slicked back hair.

And I swear in that moment... I headed to church to say my prayers and confess that I think the stranger was the love of my life.

Cigarette ash on the dashboard on the way to confession-- I fell in love with the stranger down the street.

Carry me with hands, cold blue
In the night of grey hue, to a wooden canoe,

Then take me up to the church that's lost in the forests of silence and cherry birch,

You will find it in musks of fragrance, with probverbs of inspiration, oils of medication, songs of meditations, temptations of frustrations and the root of all creations
Lay me there with my relations,

But before you lay me, sway me with the kiss of innocence, on one another's lavender lips
Under the night of a lunar eclipse
In a frozen sky and numb fingertips,

When all is as it is, let it be
You must betray me
You must decay me
Listen and obey me
When I say you could not pursaide me,

I will be leaving even externally,
Without doubt and uncertainty,
My dead body will be eternally
And I will live in the taste of eternity

There is no grace with these decayed churches, only hate and ignorance in these pews

You wail of love and understanding, oh how wretched you can truly be

You'll burn the ground you stand on, and burn your own flesh, just so your ignorance is protected

The faith you hold is a very ****** thing, it's poison to the innocent that you say you love

The few who do not wish to partake these actions, who say it is not all of their congregation

It does not change the ignorance, if it bothers your soul as so, you are the few who must have the want to change it

Being apologists does not excuse you, you stand idly by while the other wolves cause suicide and self hatred

Oh how the church is a joyful thing, joy for their own greed and hatred, believing they will get to heaven

How very strange, and yet sad

OK, let me seem to be the one "devil" not to honour,
A man is great enough to get the "universe's message" out,
More than 200,000,000 tune in every Sunday
To hear him, the great works fools fantasize about.

"Informing" people why they were born, what the powers are,
Tell us all about these three kings/wise men following a star,
"It's all mind candy, I tell you!" But then I'm silenced,
These people are at the top for being ignorant near and far.

They give us these messages, love each other, don't ****,
Then they bring the Saviorettes out, lambs off of battlefield,
And they bury them with gun in hand, Davy Crocket style,
There is some sort of irony in this, one that is in denial.

So I ask you why these people will spend millions,
Will fall upon their knees in front of a stupid T.V.
This farm slop, this pig wig god, in the endless billions,
To tell you what became of what you call "true history?"

Entering an airplane,
For me,
Is like entering a church,
This sacred place where we sit in pews,
Eyes glued to the incredible,
Action up front,
Yet the view from the window,
As beautiful as the stained glass of the church back home,
Pulls longingly at my attention,
But unlike church,
I truly feel renewed,
When we land and I exit,
The beautiful, sacred plane.