"catholicism" poems
Although the experience of trauma is a certain force with which to be reckoned, one can frame its power within the realms of a problem or a possibility.
Consider the bond of brickwork in Massachusetts, as it resembles structures of olde, where the witch trials were an extension of ******* Catholicism.
Please acknowledge that there is lead in the windows of rickety black-and-white buildings of Tudor establishment, which must remain if its integrity is to be preserved.
It truly is a long way to the top of Australasian rebellion.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
oh i can tell you why Brexit happened...
apparently in light of the European
i was not European enough,
a mongrel, a ******* Mongol...
eastern Europeans are Mongols,
mind you...
i'm pretty sure the Brexit vote
happened...
because the A8 joined...
when the Eatern European joined
the old post-colonial powers...
plenty of Pakistanis...
do i mind?
do i ******* care?!
i don't care...
you deal with: the minding!
no...
i have an inheritance tax
without any ceremonial
past...
your **** is your ******* ****
plus the Arab, and the curry...
**** off!
i'm no *******
*vierte ***** pussy-whip...
you ******* yo-yo oreo!
mind you?
put me down on this one...
i hate the Poles...
i ******* hate the Poles...
what they did to the Chernobyl me?
i hate the Polacks...
don't like them...
i'd rather spit
than talk to them...
i've learned my lesson...
i hate them more than
the Germans, or the Russians...
i hate them with the sort of hatred
reserved for
patriots...
Judas Priests...
i abhor the ****** catholicism...
it makes me... cringe...
then i think:
thickens the thong -
better than the Islamic
crap to mind making a boot...
Brexit only happened because
of the supposed invasion of the A8...
the Pakistani mobile gave off a jitter -
somehow the "excess" Europeans
migrated...
whites combined with
whites...
Europeans mingled...
big problem for the Pakistanis...
Brexit only happened because
"eastern" Europe joined the
*vierte *****
well... "joined"...
some of us had enough sense as
to keep the currency...
******* Pakistani bullshitters...
what?!
i thought English girls loved
being gang-rape-fucked?!
no?!
my bad...
the joining of the A8
disrupted the presence of Britain in
the EU...
thumbs up on the curry-sauce...
thumbs down on the Baltic
sauerkraut....
guess what?!
**** you!
you ******* British Empire
bonkers...
relief contra racism with an
Empire disintegrating!
wankers...
sure, beseech alliances
outside of Europe...
seek them, find them,
govern them...
the next time you come shoveling your
**** into my: awareness...
i'll be asking...
so... Rotherham...
no, not really... don't bother me
with that sort of ****
you deal with your ********
before shoving your ***** into my mouth
expecting me to gargle
on the produce...
you're closer to Pakistan
than i am to Mongolia...
you draw the the postcard...
i'll draw the pretty picture.
don't get me wrong, thought,
i hate the Polacks...
i don't belong between them...
i'd prefer to be strapped to a Hydra
of homeless dogs...
than exercise the humanity
of a shared tongue
with these... mongrels;
mind you... the British are just as
bad... when it comes
to their, mongrel stature.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 6:54 PM UTC
This is for the residents who remember
And for the transplants who
Have yet to be informed
But have got an inkling
Burque has gone from
Bustling to busted
And back again
Growing up in the 80’s
I learned about the
Varying degrees of “sick”
As my dad pointed out
The pekid pachucos perusing
Pharmacy isles
Attempting to purchase
Cough syrup with codeine
In the evenings
Driving home down Central
I would ceremoniously
Count hookers
My parents would
Precariously pack heat
In the trunk of our car
Or even in my mom’s special ***** pack
With the hidden compartment
For her .38 snub nose
Because you never know
Who will be in your home
When you arrive
That’s a given
When flop houses are
Interwoven with prime real estate
And barrio boundaries
Border the bourgeois’ bungalows
And Huning’s Castles
And residents rarely recognize
Or realize
That aside from the locals
The European Jews
Was the only group gutsy enough
To settle here
And create commerce
Despite risks of being raided
By Apaches
And they reaped the benefits
Off Roma and Marquette
Because the rewards
Turned out to be greater than
The risks
And up North
Where Sephardic turned Crypto
Conversions to Catholicism
Kept the Messiah’s spirit alive
But in basements
They still did Chi fives!
I was saddened in middle school
When I realized
That many of our parents
Were too ashamed of our roots
To teach us Spanish
And our
Schools ****** so severely
That most of us
Didn’t learn English either
But hey –
All you need to
Communicate while cruising
Are cat calls
And the thumping boom
Of the bass in the tubes
And the hydraulic drop
When they hit
The hot spots
From Tingley, Kit Carson and
Central to Copper
Each kid dreams that
His ride
Will be the show stopper
I could rant and rave
And rattle off for days
But bottom line –
We have the most
Curious state
With mysterious qualities
And in-depth histories
But most of us are
More concerned with
Bud Light
And Biscochitos
Con Manteca
Because it just tastes great!
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 2:39 AM UTC
Culture is sometimes just a way of showing who the person truly are. A country’s culture shapes everyone’s life that lives the that area. The ways that trading has affected culture is extraordinary. It changed the way we look at each religion and ideas all over the world. Trading helps a country’s culture because it spreads to grow a culture, makes other people see and understand the other cultures, and opens up new ideas.
Without trade life would be different. Trading made the whole world be able to expand to new regions and eventually get along with one another. The native americans hating the fact that Europeans moved into their land and took over everything. Eventually, they began to get use to each other. It took time, but eventually they got the hang of it. It made the world be able to expand to new regions while being able to get along and not **** each other. Honestly, without trade the world would be less diverse and not able to be joined into one.
Trading could help make the countries understand that they are different and that the world is better if they are different from each other. Take religion for an example, without the trading and exploring there would only be one specific religion for an area. That could be good, but it could also be very bad. Country leaders controlled their country by the religion a lot of times. England use to be only Catholic, so when they made colonies in America they ended up to be Catholic as well. The natives had their own beliefs and the English decided to come and try to control them. Well, that didn’t go too well for them. It caused a lot of fights between the groups. Now that the countries have traded, it opens up a whole new thought process to the different religions. It made you understand why the people believe what they do.
Opening new religions is just a part of trade. Countries over the years have been introduced to religions such as; Judaism, Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, and Catholicism. Not only that, but look at the way traditions have changed. Christmas is a celebration that is celebrated in America by different religious and non-religious groups. Christianity and Catholicism believe baby Jesus was born on Christmas, but some people celebrate Christmas for the fun of it. Some people don’t even celebrate Christmas. A couple celebrate Hanukkah. So, trade made America more diverse.
Trading could corrupt a culture, but it helps it a lot more. Spreading of religions helps countries be diverse in new ways. Without religion some people would be lost or stuck in a place where they were forced to think a certain way. Many countries had a lot of arguments because they didn’t understand each other properly. Without understanding someone, it would be bad and end in an argument. It gives knowledge about the traditions that have been spread throughout the whole world. Christmas wouldn’t be here and neither would any of the other holidays. So, trading has helped the culture of every country become better.
Trading is a big part of a country’s culture, without it the world would be different. It helps in so many ways and no one really knows it. Times people don’t even appreciate what is given to them. Trading helps a country’s culture because it spreads culture to make it grow, makes people see different points of view, and opens up ideas. In order for you to prove this, look up information in a history book or look at America today.
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 8:10 PM UTC
I am from a Saturday afternoon living room overflowing with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac, John Lennon and Bob Dylan.
I am from home cooked meals, roaring laughter at the dinner table and short tempered Italians.
I am from Frank Sinatra singalongs, Lifetime movies and swimming lessons from my Mimi.
I am from my Pop’s war stories, tomato picking and ***** jokes.
I am from the grandparents that didn’t want my dad and the grandparents that did.
I am from the stoic grandmother that wasn’t involved in my mom’s life and the deadbeat grandad that didn’t seem to exist.
I am from the ten years of Catholic school, plaid skirts and polo shirts.
I am from spoon-fed customs of Catholicism every day except (coincidentally) Sunday mornings.
I am from rose scented mornings because of regretted whiskey words from the night before.
I am from words muttered impulsively, apologizes not offered graciously and too many family nights turned into family fights.
I am from cigarette infused hugs, plastered smiles and “I’ll quit tomorrow”.
I am from twenty-six years of handholding, couch cuddling and kitchen dancing.
I am from goodnight kisses, chocolate chip cookies in my lunch and red heart emoji’s in a text.
I am from love and anger and happiness and remorse.
I am from memories in the making and a future unknown.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC
Let our collective imagination
Turn to stone
Antique collectibles
For our future
To own
The dissent
In current politics
Tries to prevent
The Third World War…
Earth’s civil war
The third rock
Becomes
The third world
Third eye
See’s it all
But
The blind leads us
Illuminati Catholicism
The Popes
False sense of hope
Falls
Since
The World holds on
And drags us
All
Down with it
Withering destiny
Dying
In the arms of humanity
Beautiful bibles
Used against
Those
Who know no
Interpretation
The courageous Koran
Has a cordial
Approach to
Oppression
The New Age Martyr
Dies
And ties a noose
Big enough
For two
Jews choose to
Subdue
The wealth
Money is the root
Of it all
But whose truly to blame
If the claims
To royalty
Are fought by all
No-names
Fight for fame
Like nomads
Of a tribe
The top
Is pursued
With the body left behind
Most kings end headless
With their body left behind
The future
Is a faint painting
Blurred from lack of vision
The piece lacks
Precision
From those high
Off power
Making the wrong decisions
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
Come in! Come in! Enter into the viral abyss of the ages.
Give thanks to the astrological signs in the name of the ancient wisdom of the oak tree.
Smouldering coals convey their warm and glowing connectedness in a medieval village, whilst the screeching owl swoops into the lofty turret of the olde English churchyard.
Will you pay homage to the proclaimed majesty of Anglican monarchy? Dare you submit your soul to the authority of King Henry VIII in the guise of what is deemed to be Catholicism? Listen: Thatch your roof my naïve friend of putrid beauty – the real plague is already upon us. Can’t you feel the tangible octaves of the harpsichord?
The rhythm of midnight will never deplete in her resounding cries throughout the universe.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
I do not believe in your God,
yet the piece of me
that I have given to you,
will define itself with your catholicism,
and you,
my darling priest,
will always be the closest to God
that I dare to reach.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:38 AM UTC
It's a phrase I often playfully use to describe my queer self.
("Were you ever?"my beloved Alison uniformly says in jest).
But now it seems unusually apt in another way:
As I swann around this empty house, the decor, the photos, the ornaments and old perfume bottles overwhelm me.
My head is brimming with memories as I glance past these fragments of our shared lives.
My loss is palpable and yet inescapable under this roof.
She surrounds us on the walls, hanging over us with her beaming smile amidst the family photos.
I want to escape but I can't:
In a mad way I want to believe that something of these relics around us can bring her back somehow.
She did after all carry something of the old Irish paganism with her.
But, no, this ancient shamanism is sadly absent in a room drowned out by every token of Catholicism you can think of.
It's all too much for this first born to take and yet she is still here in the tiny gaps of these precious artefacts.
Hidden away where you can't see her.
So, no, being honest right now - I'm not quite straight yet.
The head and heart will realign soon but not with this gnawingly painful grief.
Pray for me.
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 7:43 AM UTC
North Atlantic Wind
Rip through this useless flesh
As I stand before you one last time before death
A sacrificial offering in a search for some inner truth
Let your fiercest storm strip away all I possess
Eight hundred years of hated oppression
So as to sell our miserable freedom
For a state sponsored religious repression
For what died the sons of Roisin
For what died the sons of Erin
To an over protected child with a shyness from birth
Anxiety, insecurity, a national depression
North Atlantic Wind
Take me from this Irish disease
Nationalism, Catholicism, Alcoholism buried within
Howl now away it's bitterness
Roar upon me your enlightenment
Let me be relieved and shorn of all these tired excuses
No longer ones of Gods' or chemicals or States of fear
Strip me to my core, and let me see what's finally within
North Atlantic Wind
Answer all it is that I never felt to ask
For it is I and I alone that I now must fatallly see
And to stop my running and hiding from this Irish disease
My North Atlantic Wind
Let this be my end.....
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC
Why did you do it?
How do you feel?
Okay, but is it the daddy issues?
Regret isn't always instant, ya know?
Eventually, i will explode.
so i'm not what, sorry who, you wanted. maybe even needed. what is the difference. turn me over and get your kicks, did you think it was your eyes i wanted to see when i opened my own? you are nobody. not to me anyways. i wish you had blinded me: maybe i would have felt more. more than the voices. felt the music over your moans - that by the way sounded like you wanted me. felt what it was to be whole, full, content. everyday something feels like it does not belong in me and you were no exception. when you breathed into my neck it was no cold biting breeze but the memory of moments before my dog threw up in my lap - at least he looked apologetic. but i let you take it and now it's yours and that is fine by me but you have this problem where you don't know when to close your mouth and maybe if you had ever put it to use i could forgive you. insult me. please. you don't know how good it feels to have my worthlessness validated by a stranger. someone who doesn't understand my jokes and my biting comments: alienates my tongue and forces it back into hiding. the moment i felt a crack following the path your fingers had once whispered into my skin: i felt home. back to base one. back to being an infant learning how to operate these strange extensions of my body - which brought me back to you, who taught you to use those fingers? i wonder if you can hold a fork, is it crooked? the moment you couldn't peel a tangerine i should have known better. speaking of, i know i do. and i want to say it wasn't what you did or didn't do but there was a lot you skipped over. i can see you're impatient, impolite, even impotent on occasion and i have to ask: how do you support yourself on such shaky arms? i truly didn't think you'd make it through the whole, what was it, 15 (?) minutes. and what did you want? a prize? a pat on the back? for ******** and spewing your loneliness into me? lips too big, neck too long, decision making skills nonexistent, looked like your last girlfriend - did I miss anything else that was wrong? did my catholicism make it better? did that help you mount the white steed, you were no prince charming and the dragon was better company. did it hurt me, to be rejected that is, only about as much ***** as it took to laugh about it. does it haunt me? like every mistake i have ever made: but it's no big deal, you're bottom of the pile. that should please you, you couldn't hold yourself on top anyways.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 1:11 AM UTC
I knelt beside my bed last night
looked at the crucifix above it
and pretended it was God.
Truth be told it’s a ceramic cross
that I was taught to believe in.
Stare at it, confess your sins, absolution is yours.
And that’s what prayer is.
I spent 12 years in Catholic schools.
School taught me little about God,
Other than how to recite the Our Father
And why I should remain a ****** til marriage.
As well as how lucky I was
To have my parents pay for my schooling
Just so I could say prayers I didn’t understand out loud.
My parents worked hard
For my sister and I to wear uniforms
and say the rosary 5 times more a year than we would have.
I wasn’t taught faith
Or how to seek kindness.
I was told to accept Catholicism
Or risk damnation.
My family went to church every Sunday.
We said grace before our meals,
And we thanked God for food we bought ourselves.
This sounds atheistic.
But it isn’t.
Because I believe in God.
However I do not believe in ignorance.
I do not believe in hate.
I do not believe in discrimination.
Three things the Catholic Church practices.
I’ve never believed that saying “fuck”
Was a one way ticket to hell.
I never believed that missing mass
Would be more suffering I’d endure in purgatory.
I believe in a God
That accepts us
For everything that we are.
A God that will not mind if
We didn’t spend an extra hour
Kneeling in a pew
Listening to another human
Preach to us HIS interpretation
Of a book
None of us will ever
Fully
Understand.
I don’t believe in a tall man
With a long beard.
I believe in a young girl with brown eyes.
I believe in an oak tree that’s branches have
Seen more than I ever will.
I believe in everything.
Because God is everything.
I’ll kneel by my bed tonight
And look at my ceiling.
Because my ceiling is as good as any crucifix.
I’ll say my prayer
For everyone
Who recites their Bible
Fears God
And squeezes their rosary tight
In hopes that it will give them something
They’ve always been lacking.
Faith.
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 5:21 PM UTC
The Old Testament;
psychoanalysis;
Communism & interest
are blamed on the world
Zionist conspiracy;
a secret cabal of Jewish
bankers behind the scenes
controlling events is
hard to argue w/;
Catholicism & the Mafia
peacefully coexisting w/
drugs, prostitution & ******
there are still saints among us
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC
*of what heart is to begin with, intact, there is no love in such a heart to govern the cruelty of flux, for love only aspires in fragmentation pf that ***** readied for nothing metaphysical, yet only the physicality of the muscular... love enters when the heart is garment in fractions and nowhere and by no-how does it exist... if love is not a search, then love is no love at all... for love akin to god, there is no clear direction, no definite coordinate, no (a) to (b) basis, or subsequent exfoliation into some sort of basics... away from my country of birth, i only found love within the existence of scotland... and by that quest for "demise" i forfeit an ask for glasgow to forgive me, my idle friendships with stereotypes of alarm... rest abididing by edinbrugh... as i might say: for every glasgow there's a birmingham, as there's a london for every edinburgh... in no other town have i felt the over-powering grasp of stereotype; forgive me.*
don't climb a mountain,
if you can't speak
to the mountain: prior
to an attempted climb
of it,
never seak what you cannot
contain with your own
worth of grip with the hands...
never ask the mountain
to become a hill you
can exectute a promenade
over... and serve such
effort the lingo of: complete.
never ask the mountain for
a name,
instead ask it to name
an ocean...
never ask
the ocean for a mountain's name,
instead a name
of a valley,
a glen coe and its massacre,
or the grand canyon...
and all the many
crevices upon the human
body with its skeletal
blanks and
empty spaces of fleshy folds...
never ask the mountain
its name...
reach the peak,
and then ask yourself
the name you were bestooed with!
ask yourself the name
you ingested as a child...
when climbing a mountain,
never ask for the mountain's name...
once you reached the tip
ask yourself, what your name
is or rather, ought to be...
and what would the mountain
name you, as a mother or a father
already have...
never mind to name
a mountain, as if it might be exclaiming
a righteous conquest...
name yourself prior
as a baptism,
and then name yourself post-
as a "catholicism"
of the rite of confirmation...
whatever name you think of
climbing down,
is the name of the mountain you
have just "conquered"...
for each man to
have reached the ever-reach of man's
final end,
if there are equals to astronauts
who reach the lunar orb,
there are those, grounded,
medium grounds between astronauts
and astronomers...
those who seek the eagles' eye,
aloof, upon the himalayan titan's cranium,
and by god,
that's halfway toward the stars.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 9:19 PM UTC
- Loving someone so much creates an ache in your heart.
- Your chest is tightening due to the anxiety that floods your senses.
- You keep trying not to let stupid words trigger you worse than they have.
- You can't type to save your life because you're shaking too bad.
- You're trying to cook but you end up forgetting what you're doing because you're too distracted by blind hatred.
- Your brain is overwhelmed by its' malfunctioning chemicals and you're somehow still more stable than someone with less abbreviations.
- You find that so funny but you know it's even actually kind of terrible.
- You're so confused because you, the girl who literally said horrible vicious things to someone just so they'd hate you, so you could off yourself without guilt and so they wouldn't have to attend your funeral, thereby ending a friendship in the one of most painful and selfish ways possible, are somehow considered a good person.
- You go to confession multiple times and still don't feel forgiven.
- You remember your views align much more closely with Wicca than Catholicism, but you still call yourself Catholic.
- You just don't understand why people are so stupid.
- It would be laughable if it weren't for the fact that it's technically slander.
- You can't come up with anymore feels because you're disassociating. Oops
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 4:30 PM UTC
bah bah black sheep... ok... the black sheep knuckled you to sleep
and now you’re asking for directions using a map and not a satellite navigation
across europe, esp. tremendous in germany near dortmund
and the rhine cities getting confused... but that’s no reason
to drive with ease from new jersey to florida with a glum pickers' pride
en route... i can play the ‘i spy with my little’ game into midnight passing me and spare myself inventive optics -
like shadow like hallucination in consistency, both flimsy,
i can recognise the real filth from packaged recyclables
from the orient.
well there’s that and there’s old russell the schizoid affective
outside tesco drinking a bottle of old speckled hen
and talking about snowfalls... 3 / 4 years ago last time i spotted
saint clause... i slipped and imagined myself breaking a knee...
didn’t happen... what happened was was a clearer truth:
why this fake image stimulant... i cant’ watch the stars
but have to subconsciously watch candy crush?
it’s **** i want the days within the insignia of war,
i don’t want my subconscious patented with candy crush,
i want the stars to remain... better an autocrat than a technocrat...
at least a human face... adolf touchy-feely,
here we go...
i imagine all those rivers of heraclitus concerning a coordinate
known as a waterfall... and post-humous exactness expressing peace...
then i spot picasso on the roof outside my bedroom window...
i support his elevation through evangelicalism from halo to angels wings...
you know what the three wise babylonians said...
you scared them to egypt you idiot announcing reign of the ditto,
you scared them them with myrrh, melchior you’re already close to malachi,
that will do... look at it... it’s babylonian already...
it’s a babylon of orthodox christianity (greek / russian), catholicism,
protestantism, baptists, pantheists and other offshoots
like being mormon!
well you can never make an omelette by the dozen involved
without asking the thirteenth egg: chicken or egg first? crucifix?! oh.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
christianity is, in part,
ontologically based, to behave like
hinduism...
in that its root is a polytheism,
focusing on
the opposite of a theology,
or its particularness...
it's poly-schismatic.
catholicism can lie all it wants away,
but the fact is simple:
christianity was based upon a focus
of an impeding schism...
so i can't see a way out of
shouting: shotgun!
as you rarely do, take the seat
in a non-black-cabbie next to the driver...
since there isn't one...
add to it an innumerable
cohort of saints... and you're done...
at least islam is "schizophrenic",
in that the schism took to representing
two factions of belief systems...
me? if i were muslim?
shi'a(h) islam... all the way...
christianity just has a messiah complex
imbedded in it... and therefore it has
so many splinters (schisms) waiting for it,
to be reduced to.
orthodox, catholic, protestant,
and then all the -isms...
luthernism, calvinism, baptism -ism- -ists...
em, second day adventists?
it's like darwinism in a theological sense:
look! look at all the theo-diversity!
only now, would you associate
the (g)nostic movement in islam (sufism)
with shi'a(h) islam...
but come on! how can you make poetry
a capitalist "thing"?
you can't compete when writing poetry...
you can't compete on an universal basis for
a uniform stance of "incompetent" expression...
that **** ain't happening...
i feel with my intensity, and with my intensity alone...
you can't compete with what you feel,
and then scribble down...
the **** is this "comprehension" / realisation?
poetry is not some potato-sack / egg on a spoon race!
in terms of language...
english has already won the culture war...
but chinese, or hindi, as written in sanskrit?
well... that's won the existential war...
a billion here... and a billion over there...
mind you, i'll repeat myself...
the polytheistic aspect of christianity is that
christianity has a tendency to agitate schisms;
it's really a religion of the obelus (÷),
or as some might suggest: the obelisk of washington d.c.
thank **** it wasn't a giant **** of
masonry, with only one / two rooms in it.
the ****** religion just implodes,
and schizophrenics itself into a poly-diadem
that then tries to resolve some primitive geometric
form (square, triangle, a straight line, a dot)
of "respectability";
but reducing the tetragrammaton (yhwh) into a
dangling piece of metal, i.e. a † (crux)?
that! that's truly barbaric!
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 10:46 AM UTC
(In commemoration of August 9, 1945)
The tree will follow Hiroshima
and Nagasaki* winds by its hearts.
“Yes” if
winds wade up and down
“No” if
winds whip across and crosswind.
The tree’s will is in the leaves…
All leaves are hearts by having
ventricles and atriums in their own ways---
even in the cactus and pines---
just watch carefully and listen astutely
to their bristly rustling…
All
leaves sway, sigh, and sometimes, sing
because they are the tree’s hearts:
open to sunshine and rain pour; blight and moonlight----
the true meaning of love!
Here, my love, I’m just a servant of
your branches, bark, and most of all
your lovely and deep roots.
*Nagasaki was the center of Japanese Catholicism by early Jesuit missions
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 9:07 AM UTC
*Too many religions
Too many interpretations.
There is truth in their folly.
Each religion beautiful in its own way.
Each one incomplete by itself, each naming
The Infinite Light, - God, Allah, Yahweh or Buddha rendering
A human division when True Light is anything but divisive.
The blessed mother Mary, the crown jewel in Catholicism,
Was she Catholic? - I only ask of you the truism
Found in this simplest of questions.
In her life, the word Catholic never even existed.
The Infinite Light appears in all religions - as fluid
As the Love that each of the religions seem to know.
In the common threads between the religions an echo
Reverberates through the world enlightening those who realize
That Faith is unanimous and Love is something that we can materialize.
So the question, no matter how it's asked it is always the same -
Do you believe in God?
I do not mean - do you believe in some religion's fairy tale,
I mean - do you believe that there is some power greater than ourselves
Which is The Light, The Infinite Light that created everything that
We know of and all that we can ever know of?
I like to think of it like this;
We as human beings utilize only a small portion of our brain.
If you place the human brain under emotionally charged situations,
Such as, meditation, joy, stress, fear or physical trauma - then the neurons
In the brain begin firing resulting in an enhanced mental clarity.
You may say, 'So what, just because you are thinking more clearly -
It does not mean that you are communicating with the Infinite Light.'
But you must also agree that sometimes unfathomable answers to what seems
Like impossible questions occur in these moments of clarity.
Biologists call it 'Altered States'; Gurus call it 'Higher Consciousness';
Psychologist's call it a 'Super Capacity for Sensation or Feeling.'
Some call it Psychic, others simply call it crazy.
Religions call it answered prayer.
I say it is simply an adjusting of the brain to learn what the heart already knows.
Each of us already has the knowledge given unto us by the Infinite Light -
We only need to open our minds and hear our inner self.
So please don't dwell on the differences.
Find Peace in what makes us all the same.*
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 10:18 AM UTC
The New York Times
ran an article
on Catholicism today.
I read it while
I was on the toilet.
My grandpa just
joined up.
He said they get him.
The **** Baptists
waste too much water
and they don't even
drink beer.
I knew a Catholic girl once
who was adamant in salvation.
Heaven's gates spread
as wide as her legs.
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 8:12 PM UTC
All those pretty boys and girls
in Utah with perfect families
and straight teeth and
golf weekends and BYU
I wanna be a Latter Day Saint:
faith like a gorget keeping
holiness inside and sin without,
my eyes turn blue contemplating sainthood
In the south they shout in tongues
they have a private line with the devil
and he lurks in the hearts of
Communists and liberals he says.
I wanna be a born again Baptist
full of hellfire and moonshine
fundamentally patriotic and God
looking down every day at my white hot purity
It’s a good day to be a Baptist my friend.
My Catholicism is a ragged old red robe
seams dragging through the dust
of old men’s prayers and smelling
of my grandmother’s face powder
even when she died.
In the end the rain washes over the berms
of every river not only Jordan
and when the flood comes I will be
lying open in a field
smelling of damp earth and crushed grass
my knees unbent and my hands unclasped
my heart in my mouth still beating.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
Late last night I watched a film
Field Punishment No 1
About 6 New Zealanders
Who refused to fight the ***
Beaten, abused and humiliated
The stood up for their beliefs
And the army couldn't break them
Despite the torture and mental grief
Threatened with a firing squad
They steadfastly held their ground
We will not yield to you on bended knee
Though in fear for our young lives
We choose our own destiny
Up to the age of 19 years I had Catholicism forced on me
But when the killing started
I finally opened my eyes to see
No Gods in their compassionate wisdom
Would allow such things be done
Then praised in halls of worship
Allow fine hyms of death to be sung
And so I made the decision
Not to go down on bended knee
And so at the tender age of 19 years
I chose my own destiny
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
Wars
Pillage
Disease
Religion
Money
God
Soul
Attrition
Governments
Environment
Man
Condemn
Hope
Space
Future
Question
Abortion
Children
Hunger
Apathy
Mortgage
Empathy
Judaism
Catholicism
Islam
Baptist
Banks
Greed
Gluttony
Foreclosure
Black
White
Division
Impasse
Blind
Death
Legions
Secret
Collaborate
Destruction
Abscond
******
***
******
Jew
Fat
Skinny
Tall
Short
Ignorance
Intolerance
Hope
Hate
Love
Death
Poverty
Wealth
Displacement
Abstract
Reality
Agony
Distrust
Temperament
Conglomerate
Drugs
Pharmaceutics
Capitalist
Socialist
Fascist
Conformity
World
**********
Society
Downfall
Atrophy
Silent
Protest
Propagate
******
Life
Precious
Dream
Regress
Degenerate
Exfoliate
Human
Substance
Into
Nothing
Hell
On
Earth
Freedom
A
*******
Mockery
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 8:47 PM UTC