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"agnostic" poems
I walk inside, and you turn to gimme a look, Look who's talkin', homie, why YOU with your holy book? I walk with pride, with dignity, I feel like I deserve it, You think I'm full with violence, but where's that in my worship? Jesus brought the bible, Moses brought the Torah, and Muhammad brought the Qur'an, All those came from Allah. I know one day you'll realize, the truth was in the Qur'an, But by then... It'll be too late, Imagine what you'll have to face, Your punishment, in the grave, That even the, snakes will hate, But then they gotta tell you, you really deserve it, And you still  say, that I'm talking B.S, You make me shut up, just because of what I say, But who'll go with you, in your grave, You won't be able to blame your mistakes on those who just faked, Did I not tell you, you were getting tricked? Your ribcage will tighten, All the people 'ready left, Why would they care, of the punishment you gotta face? This is just an intro, My friend: listen to what I gotta say, Hell will come into view, Screamin'; You wouldn't have deserved this, All you had to do was just worship, All you had to do, was show Allah he deserves it, All the love and respect, you just had to show it, Not believe those who said, religion don't deserve it, You said you're not an Atheist, or an Agnostic, You said you're not a Christian, why didn't you become a Muslim? All the things I told you, were for this day to come, I wanted to make you, somehow convert to Islam. Tell me: Do you crave that punishment? Then why the hell you ain't gon' listen? All I want is best for you, you just gotta pay attention, You call for me, I can't do one thin', You ain't callin' him, who gave you everythin', Homie, this ain't a fantasy, You can't go back in time, You can't fix all those things, You just said you had no time, To worship him who created you, But when I say this to you, you think that I'm insane, Pray for your next life, not your worldly fame, They came with the message, but you never accept it, you said you don't need it, But now you'd say you believed it, All you had to do was just worship, but now you don't deserve it, Don't tell me I never told you: Just become a Muslim, All those years I tried, told you, you really deserve it, Now you're shredding tears only full of blood,, Told you they ain't Islam, they were just F'N up, Told you I was peace, now what you gon' do, I always only wished, for what was best for you,   Violence is not Islam, Terrorists are not Muslims, All they wanna do, is use up all their bullets, Keep calm, 'cause I'm a Muslim, not a terrorist, Hurry up, it ain't too late, look into Islam, 'Cause I know, you don't deserve ir, You're so lucky, you have the truth in front of you, You just outta accept it.
0
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
Did I Not Tell You...?
I walk inside, and you turn to gimme a look, Look who's talkin', homie, why YOU with your holy book? I walk with pride, with dignity, I feel like I deserve it, You think I'm full with violence, but where's that in my worship? Jesus brought the bible, Moses brought the Torah, and Muhammad brought the Qur'an, All those came from Allah. I know one day you'll realize, the truth was in the Qur'an, But by then... It'll be too late, Imagine what you'll have to face, Your punishment, in the grave, That even the, snakes will hate, But then they gotta tell you, you really deserve it, And you still  say, that I'm talking B.S, You make me shut up, just because of what I say, But who'll go with you, in your grave, You won't be able to blame your mistakes on those who just faked, Did I not tell you, you were getting tricked? Your ribcage will tighten, All the people 'ready left, Why would they care, of the punishment you gotta face? This is just an intro, My friend: listen to what I gotta say, Hell will come into view, Screamin'; You wouldn't have deserved this, All you had to do was just worship, All you had to do, was show Allah he deserves it, All the love and respect, you just had to show it, Not believe those who said, religion don't deserve it, You said you're not an Atheist, or an Agnostic, You said you're not a Christian, why didn't you become a Muslim? All the things I told you, were for this day to come, I wanted to make you, somehow convert to Islam. Tell me: Do you crave that punishment? Then why the hell you ain't gon' listen? All I want is best for you, you just gotta pay attention, You call for me, I can't do one thin', You ain't callin' him, who gave you everythin', Homie, this ain't a fantasy, You can't go back in time, You can't fix all those things, You just said you had no time, To worship him who created you, But when I say this to you, you think that I'm insane, Pray for your next life, not your worldly fame, They came with the message, but you never accept it, you said you don't need it, But now you'd say you believed it, All you had to do was just worship, but now you don't deserve it, Don't tell me I never told you: Just become a Muslim, All those years I tried, told you, you really deserve it, Now you're shredding tears only full of blood,, Told you they ain't Islam, they were just F'N up, Told you I was peace, now what you gon' do, I always only wished, for what was best for you,   Violence is not Islam, Terrorists are not Muslims, All they wanna do, is use up all their bullets, Keep calm, 'cause I'm a Muslim, not a terrorist, Hurry up, it ain't too late, look into Islam, 'Cause I know, you don't deserve ir, You're so lucky, you have the truth in front of you, You just outta accept it.
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61
i never wanted to kiss her lips, just hold her hand maybe kiss her cheeks because she suited a gentler kind of treatment something softer and more delicate, quiet; quieter than the constant raging storms inside my stomach, inside my mind (never my heart) those plump lips she bit them raw when nervous, and they swelled blossomed ruby as she looked at me like she knew this wouldn't last her eyes remained doughy and mellow when i met her gaze. my smile stung as it stretched the lines left by winter's bite and split them open once more. she brushed the blood beads away with her fingertips with a touch so reverent that, for a moment, i thought maybe she felt as though she were touching rosary beads instead, and i held my breath to stop myself from chasing her touch, and pressing her down into the mattress unholy, chasing pleasure. both agnostic, but she was much more pure than i; chivalries always in mind, i wanted to preserve that. there's always been something inside me that presses down the animalistic urges with a conscience caught on consideration and something akin to courtly love- i wanted to woo her before i pursued her but i never got further than pressing my lips to her forehead, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. i laced my fingers with hers but avoided tying any knots. i am not a man to be bound, too free-spirit, too restless, too claustrophobic; a few months in and i was choking on the ghost of a future; she kissed me first and i suffocated on the phantom of her hopes for us: a future that didn't yet exist, and i didn't want it to. i never kissed her; i never let her kiss me again. we tangled fingers over the duvet the television a background noise to our unsteady breaths, shallower than my love for her i enjoyed her quiet affection like one might enjoy curling into a blanket when cold and ill. i wanted her smiles, i wanted to fill her memories with goodness so that she never need feel hopeless, like all men are the same so that she had something to smile about when she looked back on us; once the bitterness of our breakup had left her mouth- whenever that eventual end would be- she could savour the taste of our sweet, slow-burn, love affair and be reminded that not all love is true love, but nor is all love heart breaking i broke her heart anyway. nobody ever taught me how cruel kindness could be.
0
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
slow burn
i never wanted to kiss her lips, just hold her hand maybe kiss her cheeks because she suited a gentler kind of treatment something softer and more delicate, quiet; quieter than the constant raging storms inside my stomach, inside my mind (never my heart) those plump lips she bit them raw when nervous, and they swelled blossomed ruby as she looked at me like she knew this wouldn't last her eyes remained doughy and mellow when i met her gaze. my smile stung as it stretched the lines left by winter's bite and split them open once more. she brushed the blood beads away with her fingertips with a touch so reverent that, for a moment, i thought maybe she felt as though she were touching rosary beads instead, and i held my breath to stop myself from chasing her touch, and pressing her down into the mattress unholy, chasing pleasure. both agnostic, but she was much more pure than i; chivalries always in mind, i wanted to preserve that. there's always been something inside me that presses down the animalistic urges with a conscience caught on consideration and something akin to courtly love- i wanted to woo her before i pursued her but i never got further than pressing my lips to her forehead, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. i laced my fingers with hers but avoided tying any knots. i am not a man to be bound, too free-spirit, too restless, too claustrophobic; a few months in and i was choking on the ghost of a future; she kissed me first and i suffocated on the phantom of her hopes for us: a future that didn't yet exist, and i didn't want it to. i never kissed her; i never let her kiss me again. we tangled fingers over the duvet the television a background noise to our unsteady breaths, shallower than my love for her i enjoyed her quiet affection like one might enjoy curling into a blanket when cold and ill. i wanted her smiles, i wanted to fill her memories with goodness so that she never need feel hopeless, like all men are the same so that she had something to smile about when she looked back on us; once the bitterness of our breakup had left her mouth- whenever that eventual end would be- she could savour the taste of our sweet, slow-burn, love affair and be reminded that not all love is true love, but nor is all love heart breaking i broke her heart anyway. nobody ever taught me how cruel kindness could be.
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51
Freedom is agnostic because you can't always tell whether you ar right or wrong does no guidance mean no hell? Freedom is agnostic because you control your fate no one told you what to do but hey, at least you're safe Freedom is agnostic of this, i am aware i will proudly accept my freedom cause i know at least its fair
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
Freedom Is Agnostic
spirit stone the emotion caught in your embrace where my body melts into yours the perfect blend of masculine and feminine bathing in a river of marble the waves are disquieting the ring is lost spirit stone don’t deceive me with other women don’t trick me with the old man at your feet I do not give up I slave away I work morning and night spirit stone everything has been cut hay, wheat, stone the interlude in the fields the moment when the ring is found dawn and thought watch me dawn and thought wear on my countenance spirit stone the moving echo of my own past the waltz to come the hidden atelier the moment when the king falls in love with his wife with his child spirit stone I am muse I am artist I am caught like a fly an agnostic queen who found the ring to fall in the arms of man spirit stone if you keep your promise we will grow with the sky if you keep your promise we will be in paradise
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Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
Camille and the Ring of Recollection
Quincy Valero Everybody’s best friend Jet black hair Shiny brown eyes A boyish smirk Standing six foot something Coming out of catholic school agnostic Attending state college Every word that came out of his mouth was a riot A funny story of a bad situation he was in that he can laugh at now An awkward moment with a girl he tried to get in bed God awful train rides with a clueless conductor Quincy Valero A wanna-be Casanova The irish-italian self-proclaimed “Don Juan of Dumont” Roaring down the suburb streets in his bright yellow mustang From Bergen county to Trenton Edgewater to Ewing Bumping R&B; from the 90's A main girl A side chick And a few back pocket broads Leading them on To where? I’m not even sure he knows Quincy Valero My best friend since I’ve been here in Purgatory My lifelong cellmate My hetero life mate My brother of second thought Our token white boy He’s had his ups Wild ragers until day break A four way with me and two girls in my four door sedan He’s had is downs Falsely charged with domestic abuse Community service, endless court room hearings, suspensions and a whole bunch of nonsense Quincy Valero The quintessential example of the modern day male Stays up all night Sleeps all day Opportunistic Egotistical Miserly ***** And hungry Always aching to put in his two cents And leaving everyone in a howl of laughter An Adderall popping Seasoned drinker A professional *** smoker, coached by yours truly Fast talking baritone voice With a half serious tone Yes, Quincy Valero The tight plain white t-shirt wearing Chino sporting Nostalgic, slightly racist, sexist, anti-semitic Bust usually honest, friendly and apologetic Good hearted dude we all love to hate And hate to love Bed-headed Pajama bottom *** Talking about his Svedka regrets And we laugh and laugh and the stupidest things Then remember events that seem so long ago And then make plans for tomorrow Yeah, one of my best friends My oldest friend That’s Mr. Quincy Valero
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Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
Quincy Valero
Quincy Valero Everybody’s best friend Jet black hair Shiny brown eyes A boyish smirk Standing six foot something Coming out of catholic school agnostic Attending state college Every word that came out of his mouth was a riot A funny story of a bad situation he was in that he can laugh at now An awkward moment with a girl he tried to get in bed God awful train rides with a clueless conductor Quincy Valero A wanna-be Casanova The irish-italian self-proclaimed “Don Juan of Dumont” Roaring down the suburb streets in his bright yellow mustang From Bergen county to Trenton Edgewater to Ewing Bumping R&B; from the 90's A main girl A side chick And a few back pocket broads Leading them on To where? I’m not even sure he knows Quincy Valero My best friend since I’ve been here in Purgatory My lifelong cellmate My hetero life mate My brother of second thought Our token white boy He’s had his ups Wild ragers until day break A four way with me and two girls in my four door sedan He’s had is downs Falsely charged with domestic abuse Community service, endless court room hearings, suspensions and a whole bunch of nonsense Quincy Valero The quintessential example of the modern day male Stays up all night Sleeps all day Opportunistic Egotistical Miserly ***** And hungry Always aching to put in his two cents And leaving everyone in a howl of laughter An Adderall popping Seasoned drinker A professional *** smoker, coached by yours truly Fast talking baritone voice With a half serious tone Yes, Quincy Valero The tight plain white t-shirt wearing Chino sporting Nostalgic, slightly racist, sexist, anti-semitic Bust usually honest, friendly and apologetic Good hearted dude we all love to hate And hate to love Bed-headed Pajama bottom *** Talking about his Svedka regrets And we laugh and laugh and the stupidest things Then remember events that seem so long ago And then make plans for tomorrow Yeah, one of my best friends My oldest friend That’s Mr. Quincy Valero
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69
(the tics will talk 'til twelve o'clock) When we make time, When we listen: The theistic preach deistic talk; The atheistic preach pragmatic talk; The agnostic preach proleptic talk; The heretic preach shismatic talk; The mystic preach prophetic talk. (the mesianic and satanic never stop) When we have time; Then we listen: The optimistic teach hypnotic talk; The pessimistic teach sarcastic talk; The altruistic teach empathetic talk; The idealistic teach synergistic talk; The pacifistic teach semantic talk; The body politic teach charismatic talk; The technocratic teach robotic talk; The romantic teach poetic talk; The critic teach cathartic talk; The moralistic teach dualistic talk; The ascetic teach platonic talk. (the artist would rather not talk) When we find time, Do we listen: The lunatic speak quizzotic talk; The neurotic speak pathetic talk; The chauvanistic speak monistic talk; The nihilistic speak ballistic talk; The hedonist speak narcissistic talk; The futuristic speak galactic talk. (the minimalist hasn't the time to talk) Just don't. Look. Some tic reset the clock.
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Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
Apocalyptic Talk
if i had an eternity i wouldn't apologize for the things i said but things i didn't say because silence kills more than words and isn't it funny how jesus is in our hearts but god can't stop the suffering every atheist has been an agnostic and i am on my knees asking for god to take me instead of that seven year old boy but god takes him instead of me and the last thing he said to me was "i want to be an astronaut" and i suppose none of it really matters because the seven year old me wanted to be a veterinarian but the seventeen year old me just wanted to make it through the day i'm wondering if the seven year old inside of me is still alive or maybe god had taken her too someone once told me that there's a kid inside all of us i think mine is trapped in my rib cage my bones are the cell and my veins are the noose that threatens to take her life if she acts up and maybe i am the warden of this prison the cigarettes and the blades are what's keeping me in power i want to throw them out if not for me but for her every agnostic has been an atheist and i am lying in my bed telling the seven year old girl inside of me that she can come out now
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Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
i swear to God
To die, To fall, To lose, In an act of, Life-giving, Spirit lifting, Victory, Is simply, Nonsensical, And yet, Perfect, Completely, Irrational, And yet, Thought out, And so, Incomprehensible, With human mind, But absolutely, And definitely, The right thing to do, Because God loved the world so much, He would let his own creation, Take his only son from him, To save his creation, From the hands of evil. And the best thing? The most amazing and inconceivable thing of all, Is that he did it for all mankind. Athiest Agnostic Christian Jew Muslim Sikh Hindu Buddhist Black White Straight Gay Lesbian Bisexual Asexual Boy Girl Bigender Transgender Agender Young Old Kind Cruel Happy Sad Rich Poor Healthy Ill Free Enslaved Safe Afraid Intelligent Stupid Deaf Blind Disabled Handicapped Single Taken Married Divorced Remarried Widowed Lost Found Persecuted Persecutor Murderer Self-harmer Suicidal Unloved Adored Popular Ignored Beautiful Ugly Guilty Innocent Outcast Desperate Autistic Bulimic Alcoholic Bipolar Addict Dyslexic Anorexic Schizophrenic SAVED Every single human being ever born is saved.
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Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
Oxymoron God
NO OFFENCE MEANT TO ANYONE. JUST WORD PLAY. Many thoughts of saviours. Different deities. Varied idols. Doctrines unique, Sometimes similar. Holy books. Different sects, yes I said sects. Buddhists, Mormons, Muslims too, Hindus, Jews and Rastafarians. Pass the spliff, that one miffs me. Too name but only one or two. Garlands or flowers. Holy cows. Churches and temples. Mosques and mystic synagogues. Or even halls perpetuating to the Kingdom. Gis' us a pint of blood or not. Definitely not vampires,oops I forgot. "Cup of tea, love?" Welcome to the Mormons. Latter day saints? Jesus Christ, what a choice. My explanation, I'm agnostic. But, never on a Sunday. I don't want converting. (C) LIVVI
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Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
SAVING GRACE
there are some kisses that I could have sworn it would never end. there are some hugs that I wish could stop time if only I just squeeze the person tight enough. there are some goodbyes I hope I'll never have to say, there are eulogies that I don't want to hear and there are songs that I don't ever want to end. I'm agnostic but sometimes I pray for the moon not to go down when I'm with you. I beg for it to hold on for at least a few more hours before dawn takes over but it never does. if there's one thing I've learned it's: no matter how much you beg, plead or promise happiness is always fleeting from our fingertips. happiness is never truly "yours", it is simply just your turn to smile. Ted made it rain for Robin, but here I am trying to stop time for you.
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Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 6:01 AM UTC
The Gatsby Effect
I grew up in a home where words like "atheist" and "agnostic", if uttered, were shoved under rugs or place mats or quilt-work sentiments reading        "God Bless This Home" And so I too, would hide from those who hid from God. But then amongst the distaste and disregard of things less than God, I Became An Evangelist! Ah, yes! Because whose soul doesn't want to be saved by a thirteen year old with a clever Christian saying on his shirt that's a size too small? But not only that, no. I dragged my friends along with me. We were, in fact, a regular children's crusade. But I was a little bigot. I pushed away those who pushed away God, shocked at the thought that anyone could not believe in what now seems completely unbelievable. I even scorned the science teacher who had the audacity to introduce the evil of evolution. I was on fire. But then the Devil himself put Kurt Vonnegut on my lap. Yes, I accredit my loss of faith to a crazy science fiction writer. At least, he pushed the first domino. And my God, I was afraid. Afraid of feelings of distance Afraid of questions that never seemed to have an answer. Afraid I was losing myself. I struggled with the traditional questions, of course: Why would a benevolent God send good people to hell for not believing? Is he that insecure? If he is omnipotent, wouldn't he know what he was getting into when he created such sinful little ***** Why should we be indicted simply because we were born? How does He expect me to give Him my entire life? Fast forward about four years. I'm eating lunch with my oldest sister, a philosophy major, no less. She tells me how she experienced almost the exact same thing I did. And after an inward struggle of four years, finally I had the courage to admit my Agnosticism to myself. I simply did not know. How could I? But now I'm left to deal with my friends, and most of all my mother. I should not feel guilty for my beliefs, or lack thereof. I am an agnostic. I am a humanist. I am on fire.
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Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 7:42 PM UTC
All My Friends Are Christians: The Story of the Closeted Agnostic
I grew up in a home where words like "atheist" and "agnostic", if uttered, were shoved under rugs or place mats or quilt-work sentiments reading        "God Bless This Home" And so I too, would hide from those who hid from God. But then amongst the distaste and disregard of things less than God, I Became An Evangelist! Ah, yes! Because whose soul doesn't want to be saved by a thirteen year old with a clever Christian saying on his shirt that's a size too small? But not only that, no. I dragged my friends along with me. We were, in fact, a regular children's crusade. But I was a little bigot. I pushed away those who pushed away God, shocked at the thought that anyone could not believe in what now seems completely unbelievable. I even scorned the science teacher who had the audacity to introduce the evil of evolution. I was on fire. But then the Devil himself put Kurt Vonnegut on my lap. Yes, I accredit my loss of faith to a crazy science fiction writer. At least, he pushed the first domino. And my God, I was afraid. Afraid of feelings of distance Afraid of questions that never seemed to have an answer. Afraid I was losing myself. I struggled with the traditional questions, of course: Why would a benevolent God send good people to hell for not believing? Is he that insecure? If he is omnipotent, wouldn't he know what he was getting into when he created such sinful little ***** Why should we be indicted simply because we were born? How does He expect me to give Him my entire life? Fast forward about four years. I'm eating lunch with my oldest sister, a philosophy major, no less. She tells me how she experienced almost the exact same thing I did. And after an inward struggle of four years, finally I had the courage to admit my Agnosticism to myself. I simply did not know. How could I? But now I'm left to deal with my friends, and most of all my mother. I should not feel guilty for my beliefs, or lack thereof. I am an agnostic. I am a humanist. I am on fire.
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62
Struggling for a gift again, Every year a new idea needed. What can I get an agnostic who has everything? Another Tiffany charm Won't do any harm. A clay pigeon shooting experience couldn't possibly miss How about Afternoon Tea... With me? Wait, an idea that's viable, A personalised Bible Where, rather than 'God', Her name instead: "In the beginning Doris-Ann created the Heavens and the Earth" Right through to: "I am the Alpha and the Omega, says the Lord Doris-Ann" What a revelation, A new gift to sweep the nation! A personalised Bible Whose sales will rival The good book itself. Such a gift might be great, Until, at St Peter's gate, Doris-Ann might have to explain That she was once God on Earth And that should be good enough For an agnostic not to be rebuffed.
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Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 8:11 PM UTC
Not On The High Street
People consider me atheist, But I am agnostic deep inside, I recognize an unearthly power, One that works at unearthly hour.
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Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 8:51 AM UTC
Agnostic
When the man at the hardware store asks, what shade of blue are you looking for sugar, to paint the walls of our hypothetical son's room, I would have said heartbreak, the same shade of heartbreaking blue as his daddy's eyes. Ironic, because I would have rooted for a gender neutral colour, an agnostic upbringing and a liberal education, but somewhere down this erratic, dysfunctional relationship, I stopped caring, or perhaps, cared only of you. Since you left there's nothing to care about, there's no you, there's no us, there's no motivation, my priorities, values and aspirations are still maintaining a distance, I'm feeling a heartbreaking shade of blue. Like that one time I got high on dried out **** I was completely aware of every stage of this breakup, the shock, the disbelief, the sadness, the pain, the regret, until it stopped. The world has come to a standstill, leaving me tripping between spring and snowflakes on the windowsill, I'm not coming down from the high, or low, I should have got you out of my system 4 years ago. It's not a linear process, said my friend, and I know what he means, because for everyday I get through without thinking of you, I spend weeks curled up in pain in bed or on the floor, feeling a heartbreaking shade of blue. Kept awake at night, weary, paranoid and deluded, suffocated, drowned in despair, sometimes even in air, in the shallow words, empty promises and plans made, thrown into solitary confinement among hundreds of other people, breaking me, when I'm already broken. All while you stripped me of my dignity, intuition and optimism, disregarded my needs, exploited my insecurities and wasted my heart, I thought I knew you, come to think of it, I don't think your eyes are blue.
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 8:44 AM UTC
Heartbreaking shade of blue
When the man at the hardware store asks, what shade of blue are you looking for sugar, to paint the walls of our hypothetical son's room, I would have said heartbreak, the same shade of heartbreaking blue as his daddy's eyes. Ironic, because I would have rooted for a gender neutral colour, an agnostic upbringing and a liberal education, but somewhere down this erratic, dysfunctional relationship, I stopped caring, or perhaps, cared only of you. Since you left there's nothing to care about, there's no you, there's no us, there's no motivation, my priorities, values and aspirations are still maintaining a distance, I'm feeling a heartbreaking shade of blue. Like that one time I got high on dried out **** I was completely aware of every stage of this breakup, the shock, the disbelief, the sadness, the pain, the regret, until it stopped. The world has come to a standstill, leaving me tripping between spring and snowflakes on the windowsill, I'm not coming down from the high, or low, I should have got you out of my system 4 years ago. It's not a linear process, said my friend, and I know what he means, because for everyday I get through without thinking of you, I spend weeks curled up in pain in bed or on the floor, feeling a heartbreaking shade of blue. Kept awake at night, weary, paranoid and deluded, suffocated, drowned in despair, sometimes even in air, in the shallow words, empty promises and plans made, thrown into solitary confinement among hundreds of other people, breaking me, when I'm already broken. All while you stripped me of my dignity, intuition and optimism, disregarded my needs, exploited my insecurities and wasted my heart, I thought I knew you, come to think of it, I don't think your eyes are blue.
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35
maybe you put too much faith in me i'm agnostic, apathetic, aromantic and too much of an antagonist to never let you down you could drown me, make me suffer for my attitude; but i'll not atone for my sins remorse is for the empathetic and i am just empathetic minus the em
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Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 12:33 AM UTC
sorry (as much as i can be)
If I were to say; the devil & god both rage within, I would render myself dishonest. For despite blind faith you have never heard me surrender, to the devil or god. The agnostic in me did surrender, to a name still unknown. An internal war battles of wills I so fought pleading & praying; *save me from what I have so become.* A war rages within thirsty blood red, slaughter a house for the dead. I fall at your feet, lick the blood splashed & spilled; a slaughterhouse will never be a clean resting place. I kneel; genuflect at the shrine of gods & monsters. I whisper; *What will be? What will become of me?* Laughing, spitting, in the face of anguished despair. A war rages within. Nor devil nor god may see, I am yours for slaughter, surrendered for you in this wasteland my mind created when you were first gone. © Sia Jane "I’ll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this           bullet inside me." Wishbone by Richard Siken
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Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
Slaughterhouse
I go back and forth. My world's always turning, tilting. Its poles constantly changing positions South becomes North. I never honestly know. What to look for or where to go. I wish for a sign to show. They've said: "Find your path." Well, I'm trying to but I'm sure that whichever one I choose to follow, I will encounter someones' wrath.
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Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
The Fearful Agnostic
For Atheists, God does not compute And religious fervour does not suit. Believers, on the other hand Keep their heads down in the sand. Both camps are certain they are right, Faiths for which they’re willing to fight And die. Well maybe not the Atheists It must be said: They stick to logic, Ruled by the head. For me I’m baffled why these folk are so certain. We won’t know The Truth ‘til the Final Curtain. I guess an Agnostic I’ll always be, So let’s sit down for a cuppa tea. Paul Butters
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Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC
Agnostic Angst
Captivity of negativity i feel something pulling me down like my very soul being gripped by the baleful clutches of death itself have i succumbed to my self inflicted insanity? i can no longer tell apart reality from my twisted fantasies it all started from thoughts so depressing like it was vomitted from the bodies of a thousand suicidal souls with no reason to live a life drenched with the fear of not being good enough longing to sate the hunger for perfection to appease the judgemental ******** who had the audacity to blame society for every misfortune that has befallen them Oh, The irony We blame society, but we are society. but who am i to judge? for im just an agnostic sadistic hypocrite...
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Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC
Captivity of negativity
You're an anomaly. Your frizzy hair And strange birthmarks Give off a less than fantastic impression To the shallow. You are soft spoken You are obsessed with fan fiction. I hear that you write... I know that you are A home schooled super-christian. Maybe that's part of the reason For my lack of understanding. You are an alien In my socially awkward agnostic world.
0
May 27, 2010
May 27, 2010 at 4:03 PM UTC
roommate number two
I've been searching, and in my tone of lost hope, I call for you Many have answered, claiming to be my heart's Spartacus They battle for my love, only to show they aren't you Like a famished agnostic peasant, I question your existence With every experience, it becomes easier to disprove you Are you really there Will I ever find my matching pair Is it true That it's in the darkest hour, the light will shine through Is this a test of my loyalty to your love If it is, I must admit I will fail I've soared higher than any bird in search for you Only to share the mistake of Icarus, and fall back down I've swam deeper than any fish in search for you Only for Poseidon to help me drown Traveled the driest desert in search for you Only to be revealed that you are an emotional mirage I've been blinded by faith Deafened by tales of you Devistated by love
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Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
Misconstrued views of "the one"
For I compare God to my Anger; just because you don't see It doesn't mean it's not There. So I'll sit Here on this fence without care.
0
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 1:58 PM UTC
Agnostic ACrosstic
I'm neither arrogant enough to believe there is nothing out there that may be beyond my ability to comprehend that works against or even manipulate phsyical law Nor am I self-centered enough to think that if one being did create everything in the entire universe ever he'd give a flying a **** what i do on Sundays, what i eat on Fridays. Either God can do nothing to stop catastrophes, or he doesn't care to, or he doesn't exist. He is either impotent, evil, or imaginary. Take your pick and choose wisely
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Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 5:41 AM UTC
Agnostic
So glad I wasn’t born a Daesh Child Or Indian lower caste. Or in some ghetto in Brazil Or wherever. The hands of Fate were kind to me, Being born a Brit. An easy life, compared to many men. To think I could have been born anywhere: A black, white or yellow, Christian, Muslim, Jew, Hindu…. Even a Royal! I’m glad indeed at what I am, But should my birth determine all? I must have Choices Little though they be. I choose Agnostic though I’m C of E, And Humanist is my Way. My Love of Nature is a solid choice: Compassionate Kindness being my Creed. My race and gender (and being Straight) Are set in stone Popular or not. But otherwise I’m just very glad To be Free. Paul Butters
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Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 6:05 AM UTC
Glad