There’s a skeptic I know who remains inconvincible
Certain that logic is something invincible
Loathe to accept
The secrets well kept
Unable to pinpoint the primary principle

Religion watered lies with cultivated fears
Pure liquid guilt methodically poured down ****** ears
Harnessed young thoughts to grim shadowed years
Harvested dumb belief in blood, sweat, and tears

Constant torture over the soul's fate
Hideously murdered that innocent state
Contrivances uttered with no trace of hate
Whose venoms still stain now balding pate

Taught to fear what we fail to understand
The devil himself possessed the idlest hand
Preferring instead to let us hang ourselves
Ironclad morals dragging us down to our hells

Stripped of rhymes
Stripped of bars
Maintaining only the most basic structure
Maybe this isn’t poetry
But it is creative writing
And I hope you find it illuminating
And thought-provoking.

The people of Oz had their wizard. A legend being capable of great feats. One could only speak to him in his chamber. His mythos came from those he amazed, who would embellish their descriptions of his power so much, that he had to hide away to protect the truth of his abilities or lack thereof. This conundrum does not exist exclusively in fiction. In history, when humankind’s logic was not as keen to such deceptions, many times power was asserted. A small group hides themselves in a cave, coming out to give commands and create rules for people who believed lies. People that believed inside the cave were mystical objects, or deities themselves that granted the small group with wisdom or power to bless efforts and curse dissent. By asserting that the contents of the cave would cause immediate death for those not chosen to see them, they kept their power secure. Such tricks only last as long as people’s fear of an unknown power outweigh their dissatisfaction with their treatment and position as slaves, or their skepticism.

Now today, the ultimate wizard exists. All knowing, all powerful, the definition of goodness, so no order or action can be called into question on the basis of ethics. Invisible to all, except when they used to appear to people all the time before cameras and in a time of legends. Speaking with a voice you hear inside yourself. No one can call into question what you heard, because you’re the only one who heard it, and since you heard it from the all-knowing definition of goodness super wizard, others who believe must follow as if the words did come from such a being, not a mere man. It’s an old trick, but quite effective.

rehab
taught me how to think differently
it
didn't
teach me to think critically
only
poured on
new
dogma
better than the old dogma
but still dogma
is there such a thing as GOOD dogma?

Don't feel like a cog.


Don't feel like a bird either.

The pantheon of misplaced fears,
Whose walls were built on oppressed tears,
Has been well-guarded through the years,
Hiding from curious man’s ears.

There is no faith that threatens fears,
Afflicting the weakest with tears,
No faith like that withstands the years,
Silent in curious man’s ears.

Unchallenged faith the true faith fears,
To give compassion through the tears,
Where questions repeat through the years,
Faith needs curious eyes and ears.

The curious confront faith’s fears,
The curious fight through faith’s tears,
The curious give faithful years,
The curious give faith their ears.

One cannot blame the Devil for the action of sin,
(The future wants me buried, I know who’s a lier)
though it’s sad I can meet him before, in the physical form,
(now I keep two rottweilers next to me bed when I sleep)
smoke in the villas, crammed with exoctic plants,
(my comrades die & come back resurrected)
it’s not even at the crossroads, can’t touch my philosophers stone,
(exploit my secrets, is to exploit everyone else's)
only to relieve my embellishing heart dwellings, one life to lead,
(the only way for me to come back, is by machiavelli.
I’m taking back, what those ******* have stolen from me)

To each rebirth I command myself to undertake,
the closer I become to being a Higher Power, further from being a Muse,
those unable to do the same, it’s alright
to
name
&
shame.
The weak is here to justify the strong,
for most will read & dismiss it as arrogant ego, rather than a self-validating poet,
living in freedom.
Let us party hard, let us party all night, the love of sacrifice is
at the base
of the shrine, profit thrives on stupidity, shown most highlighted in trends
& forefront of subcultures, delusionary revolutions,
the world changes according to the change of the individual,
too bad ignorance isn’t painful,
for
I crave original thinking,
it is too bad I have wasted so much time,
on those who cannot even pull themselves to average,
you’re none to service.
Blessed are those who can destroy false hopes, illusions, trends, validation from others, dependance, angst & insecurity.
Freedom lays in thy hands.
(Heartache, don’t let it bring my heart down,
Jezebel bow your head in shame,
I am the light of illumination,
Mystical enhance my essence is, you phony,
you fake, I’m free, while your wrapped in children’s
attention. The sun rises in the east, at the Beast’s
discretion, than sets in the west, Babylon won’t
test. I’m free again, ruff & ready, you don’t know
what you're living for. Reaching replaceable average
is your best hope. Everything at your feet, still you’re
bitter, bored & sober, so you got nothing to do.
Forgetting suicide is painless)