God scans through the texts of Tolstoy
For the secrets of the universe
While the archangels at the table
Dispute loudly, who is worse –
Was it Van Gogh, or Picasso?
“I was far worse than both of them!”
Says a self-righteous Mozart
While Beethoven starts spitting.
“Oh, don’t you two start!”
Warns a tipsy-stern Gabriel
From behind a tall lager
While Plato scrawls circles
Like a half-a-dime auger.
“Silence!” God booms,
Though his eyes are quivering
With unshed tears,
And Dickinson is shivering
With the draft of early evening.
St. Peter is resting,
Feet propped on a chair,
Before returning to his post,
And God lets them all stay there
By his side as he thumbs
Through War and Peace’s last pages
While the fire burns low
And the storm outside rages.
Wilde laughs uproariously
At the news while he cooks.
“How was it?” Michael asks
As God closes the book.
God takes a moment
Before his answer, confessing,
“It wasn’t too bad, I think,
But far too depressing.”
Religion is the ****** of the people.—Karl Marx
Religion is the dopiate of the sheeple.—Michael R. Burch
Raise your words, not their volume.
Rain grows flowers, not thunder.
—Rumi, translation by Michael R. Burch
To write an epigram, cram.
If you lack wit, scram!
—Michael R. Burch
Once fanaticism has gangrened brains
the incurable malady invariably remains.
—Voltaire, translation by Michael R. Burch
Little sparks may ignite great flames.
—Dante, translation by Michael R. Burch
Hypocrisy may deceive the most perceptive adult, but the dullest child recognizes and is revolted by it, however ingeniously disguised.
—Leo Tolstoy, translation by Michael R. Burch
Just as I select a ship when it's time to travel,
or a house when it's time to change residences,
even so I will choose when it's time to depart from life.
—Seneca, speaking about the right to euthanasia in the first century AD, translation by Michael R. Burch
but for today,
i am still alive, alive, alive
and i will taste the honey
because it is sweet.
The US will drive like the rest of the world,
And declare peace on the Middle East for all times ahead;
Good ﬁlms and books will be successful;
And punk’s not dead.
Justin Bieber will bottom all the charts; Pink Floyd'll be back together;
Bond will like his martinis stirred, not shaken;
Race, gender, class and orientation will be nonsense words;
And there’ll be no sequels to Taken.
Teenagers will fawn reading Tolstoy and not Meyer;
Old, black men will order the "extra whip, non-fat, caramel latte, venti;"
Art galleries will be closed to people over 21;
And poets will feature in the Top 20.
There will be equal jobs and opportunities for everyone;
Humans will give up on colonising mars and the moon;
We will bring down the imperialistic, capitalist, racist, misogynistic hetero-patriarchy;
And you will love me, tonight at noon.
What am I? A part of the infinite. It is indeed in these words that the whole problem lies.
... And the cause of everything is that which we call God. To know God and to live is the same thing. God is Life.
.. True religion is that relationship, in accordance with reason and knowledge, which man establishes with the infinite world around him, and which binds his life to that infinity and guides his actions .. and leads to the practical rules of the law: do to others as you would have them do unto you.
(Leo Tolstoy, Confessions)
Me han cambiado de afuera el tiempo y su arena, pero adentro my esfera noche sigue llena de estrellas, luzes muertas.
Que alumbran los sueños y ayudan a leer las caricias.
Si pudiera escojer un animal a quien ser, el tigre me viene a la mente con su cuerpo ajedrez, que delizia ser parte del mar un delfín que salta y esconde una sonrisa en la sal.
El Libro de Arena
— The End —