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Jenny Bllr Dec 2021
I am vegan.
But you eat pizza with cheese sometimes.
But you shouldn't eat mock meat.
You have to justify why.

I am a feminist.
But I am a good white guy.
But then you hate men.
You have to justify why.

I am sick.
Of having to explain myself.
Of having to behave perfectly.
As soon as they label me.

I am tired.
Of saying the same thing
Over and over again.

And I wonder in silence
Why we can't all be
vegan and feminist.
I find myself in discussions with lots of ppl about feminism and veganism and while I enjoy their curiosity, I also dread saying the same things over and over again.

River running..

That rushing sound in these parts
spell out the words, crystal-clear..
Tree-lined banks, giving way
to the Dark Hills,  upslope

Giving way,  to
granite-rocked outcroppings
giving way to  elk-hidden quakeys
Surrendering their holy-huddle's
pristine stances
to tall  prairie-grass, waving
wild raspberries  and tall pines

    And I,  myself.. 
    am surrendering also
She is watching the water, believing
That as it flows,
she will not lose herself in it
That it will not steal,  but heal

That I will not  rage again
within my fear

I am watching her,
watch the water
I am watching the water--  believing
That as I give  of myself
further  into the flow

that I will not become  diffused
by humanity
By the love  of man
and all  of its dishonesty

and all  of its  diabolical treachery

Of its  lack of concern,
or understanding
Or ability to break through
its own,  self-centeredness

Or its need  to swallow me up
    into the mundane.
Her hands are in the air now,

the true nature  of the flow,
that I will let all of this, go
And as she  wades in
I ease, back--

up the Dark Hills, *****
Clutching tightly..
To granite-rocked outcroppings,

Hiding in the quakeys,
among the majestic elk
Begging for the tallgrass, cover
among the wild raspberries.
   Now, fully concealed
   in  tall pines.

Her hands
are stretched out,  now..
as if hovering  over the waters,

While I hide  from it all

While I hide,  from humanity;
From the fallen,  love of man

    She is wading in,
As I am leaving;

    As the cloud-hidden sky,
    starts raining--

playing the most incredible, of tunes.

Now Muriel plays piano
every Friday at the Hollywood
And they brought me down to see her
and they asked me if I would

do a little number
And I sang with all my might
She said,

"Tell me are you a Christian,  child?"
and I said,  

"Ma'am, I am tonight.."
even the strongest,  at times
become afraid

Ylzm Sep 2020
Belief however justified is still a belief
For any justification needs justification
It's belief too, turtles all the way down
And reason is a snake eating snake

Unless founded on the rock of truth
There's no justification even for reason
That which is always tentative and falsifiable
Is not knowledge but literally shifting sands

But we know truth like the blind on level ground
We fear but walk, not falling nor stumbling
Or as a babe touching and tasting all things
But always watched over, lest harm befall us

The rain falls on both good and evil
The earth bring forth food for man and beasts
For one good man the earth shall be spared
Good shall be good, and evil shall be evil
Harmony justifies…
The onward march of time
The warblers and dragonflies
The ants and twinspots

We are not just forgetful
We write poetry about
The forgotten…
Harmony justifies!

And so sullen
I was at daybreak
And so enchanted
I was at dusk
A lesson in logic, and a good day
Robert Watson Mar 2020
lying there undecided
pick a side and be divided.
Satan’s surgeons, masked death
robbing baby of first breath.

Wake up!
Surrogate murderers.

The 1% cannot justify
the thousands of voiceless screaming cries.
Awake us from our lullabies.
History awaits your alibi.

Another convenience ****,
accepting societies numbing pill.
Will you concede to Evil’s will?
Or trade convenience for goodwill.
Voicing what I believe regardless of other's opinions. Hopefully, this will provoke you from lethargy. “We need not to be let alone.
"We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered?" -Ray Bradbury
Nicholas Feb 2020
Your view
is skewed
and my view
is true

**** all that oppose
the spoken word.
This is the way
to our purity
and their salvation.
Thomas David Dec 2019
I turn to red at beauty’s peak
With warmth, my leaves wear wanton streak
Of golden, gloried, armor ‘splayed
Adorned by flame’s immortal blade.
But fire is weak to water’s burn
So though I glow ‘gainst grass and fern
Reflecting rays of Thursday light
On loftened winds, a raisėd kite
A single splash of freshened sigh
Will swiftly cast my leaves awry.

O gloried, many-colored coat!
That Father through incarnate note
Composes of the deadened leaves
That up a hill my Saviour heaves;
You hid my shame at garden’s end!
Why can’t you mend this twisted bend?
Why can you not, accessory,
Re-tailor tailor’s imagery?
Or pound these hands so deeply pricked
Before the wrongful fruits be picked?

Remember Friday’s curtain ripped
The gambled robe the soldiers stripped;
No cov’ring, cloak, imputed cloud
Can blur or bow a beast unbowed.
A garment’s graze may sickness stave,
But it was left inside the grave!
Instead I see His ruptured side
Ascend with Him to be His Bride.
If crowned into that image lanced
One climbs to where no cloak advanced.

The tree’s no trick: not cheaply tried
It is man’s fate indemnified.
T’was Adam’s fate to **** his God—
Beyond which nought can e’er be awed—
His choice fulfilled in depths of hell
Where tortured, godless Adams dwell.
But choice fulfilled in parallel
By tortured, godless, Christ as well.
My soul will with the former fade
Or will be nailed to latter’s clade.

So shed my reddened leaves, O Lord!
And make me face the snows unmoored
From comforts, calm, conveying no
Dependence on the ground below.
My feet no longer need be shod:
They’ll hang with His, pierced with their God
Below the tortured martyr’s cry
Where Perfect Blood will sanctify.
I praise, I’ll praise you for the night:
Though I sin more, my sin I fight.
We are justified by Christ's suffering through our own.
Dylan McFadden Jul 2019
I remember...

The night my Daddy gave me his t-shirt,
And I wore it to bed

It smelled like him,
It felt like him,
It clothed me totally,
And made me feel so small

And now, it was mine!
And I loved it so...

And Daddy said to me:
"One day, you'll grow up into Daddy's t-shirt..."

But the years came and went,
And Daddy's t-shirt still didn't fit...

...More and more so,
But never perfect

And even today,
As I've become a Daddy myself,
My Daddy's t-shirt wears quite large

But it's still mine.

And it still covers me.

And I remember what Daddy said,
And this I know with all my heart:

One day, it shall fit perfectly.

ashw Jun 2019
the omittance of a standard
the justification of an action
the realness of pain

and still I laugh
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