O Counsel! Now I am bound to withdraw,
I must - for there is no prudent rhyme or
Melody that I might compose, save awe
Or list’ning silence, unless to the door
You lead me, and open it as well, for
Guidance and discerning are yours, and none
save you directing has e’er glory won.

O Counsel! I may distinguish right from
Left, but no more; to mark right from wrong, such
Judgement belongs to thee. Life’s very drum
Beats in or out of tune, little or much,
According to thy reckoning; your touch
Is my rule, for whate’er song the world sings,
Thou alone art the measure of all things.

O Counsel! Hear me, and to me descend!
Sweet Prudence! Guard against folly and fad!
Good Judgement, on whom I wholly depend!
Decisions without thee are all but mad,
The path which follows thee is sweet and glad!
Advisor, as discreet as thou art great,
Whoe’er seeks thy word second, asks too late!

Are you really gonna judge me?
               Because I'm not the same.
But haven't you heard?
            That difference is beautiful.
Are you really gonna judge me ?
               Based on a  book
                    Thousands of years old.

          A book that's created by man.
               It's made a breed of haters.
              All it is
                                   Is a book of lies.
              Created to take control
                              of everyone's lives.
              Well I won't be held down.

              Stone me.
                                         Execute me.
              I won't change who I am
                          for a man in the sky.
             Hate me.
                                      Desecrate me.
     I won't change for a book of lies.

             So if there is a God now
Are you telling Me?
             He made me just to be hated.
                       Made me out of greed.
             This is a world of judgement.
                         And we're all on trial.
             All of you haters
                             are living in denial.

             Stone me.
                                           Execute me.
             I won't change who I am
                            for a man in the sky.
            Hate me.
                                        Desecrate me.
      I won't change for a book of lies.

            Judge me.
                                                Burn me.
            I won't live in shame.
                               I will live in pride.
            I will not hide.

           The world's about religion.
                       I think that is a shame.
           I think that all the rights
              should be the ******* same.
           The same for every person
                             living in this world.
           The same for every living boy
                                                  and girl.

           This is a world of hate now.
                         I want that to change.
           But is our freedom
really out of range?
           You can't take it from us.
                   No, we won't back down.
           You can preach your *******
                 while we steal you crown.

I am a product of god's ignorance
I've been built from marred clay
Blame me, for sanity's sake
But the potters hands faltered
Irregardless of what some might say

I ingest every ounce of ink
I can manage to get a hold of
Until it permiates
And percolates again and again
Filtering through matter once gray
Leaving it saturated

Invoking imagery
Evoking change
And aptitude long since vacant

Because we bet on friends, but count on ourselves
With a fickle mistrust
Hardly justified, but well enough adapted
Laughable, really, when its thought about

Its only been recent that I've had so little time to place bets
And so little time to gamble
Like a trick of the vagrant wind
Ageless as it flows between a million meetings  of the minds
All great and inspired
Lying on so many final wills
And parting testaments

Grave, where is your sting...

Assumed to be bitter, it would seem
But bonds long since sutured to flesh
Make for an easy stretch of time
From now
Until forever ends

Each and every one

Each of my bones was broken and
Then set into themselves
Folding over backwards
Misshapen and deformed
Heaven blessed my torments many
Bitter running brooks that flow
Over every broken bone
Making each one whole

Restitution, but at a price
Vengefully demanded sacrafice
Only half a moment wasted lost in thought
Standing on the brink of a crossroad

Goddess, take a hold on me
Spirits, rend my soul free of these
Would be chains

A fall like lightning can illuminate
A dark night

The symbol of an age ending
And another fire burning

You folks wonder why no one wants to walk through your wooden doors.
You act like we’re all supposed to swear the same clothes, sing the same songs.
What if our doctrine didn’t line up?
Would you judge me for not agreeing?

Recently I’ve become increasingly sensitive and hyper aware of my surroundings.
Your church reminded me of middle school,
And I couldn’t stand middle school. Everyone was clicky and exclusive.
Since when is church about who’s wearing the best outfit?
When did we Christians become so shallow?
It’s amazing how people can judge you when you’re not like them,
Carving out an image of perfection that never existed in the first place,
Because when it gets down to it we’re all broken.
You are not entitled to people coming to your church when the feelings are not welcoming.
Except one, she gave me a free ticket to the Beautiful Eulogy show.
Sadly to say, she was the only light at your church while everyone was dead,
or just full of themselves.

*There are good reasons why churches across America are dying off.
Christians can behave worse than non-Christians, at times even more cruel and uncharitable.

I'm scared of myself.
Sometimes.
Thoughts will softly bubble up to the ceiling of my conscience,
brushing past rational thinking
and emotional knowledge,
and burst.
The sound startles me.
How could I've let that happen?
How did the bubble even form?
I'm not one to carelessly release the airtight seal
that keeps out unwanted visitors.
I fear more bubbles, but assure myself it's just a fluke.
This doesn't happen to people like me.
Surely.
Sometimes.
But more scared that I'm the only one.