Poetically Profound

proverbialrose asked: Are you religious? And if so, what religion?

I’ve honestly been waiting for someone to ask me this question for an eternity. I’ll have to resist an entire diatribe on this subject but I’ll delve into my own personal beliefs here.

I don’t believe in religion. I was raised Catholic and once I was 12 and got into writing, I began questioning several things. Religion was atop the list.

I’ve read the Bible cover to cover three times. I’ve read the Quran once (though I’ve read several section multiple times). I’ve read every religious document I could get my hands on: Dead Sea Scroll excerpts. Gnostic texts. Books on Shinto, Taoism, Confucianism, Jainism, Hinduism and Buddhism. Even studies outside conventional spectrum such as angelology, Wiccan and the Zodiac just to name a few. Not to mention all the mythology of the Greeks, Romans, Norse, Celtic, Aztecs and countless others.

What I came to realize was that I believed part of this, part of that but more so in myself. I closely relate to Buddhist teachings but I still call myself a Christian because I believe in living life like Jesus taught as well. The Five Pillars of Islam hold true value to me and though I don’t actively practice them, I acknowledge their importance. I try to keep a moral code that transcends just one specific ism.

I believe everyone should question things. Expand their minds & hearts. Practice and preach peace & tolerance. That would be ideal.

I also believe in God less as a deity & more as an energy we put forth. I like to think of God as inspiration. You can find it in anything, anywhere at any time. As a poet or artist (which I’ve come to accept as a labeled term for myself at this point), I want to see inspiration (or God) in everything. I want to spread it upon others as much as I can, as much as I’m able to.

When I first began writing, I attacked religion full force. Blatant and blind with hatred. I was young & angry at the world. I thought religion was like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. Another nonsensical idea that anyone my elder forced upon me & then stripped away my innocence in one fell swoop.

I’m older now and though I still don’t believe in religion, I don’t harbor the hatred I once did for it. If your religion makes you the best person you can be & allows you to be tolerant of others’ beliefs then I can’t denounce it. Hatred doesn’t belong in religion nor does it belong on this planet.

However, any belief can be manipulated & misconstrued. I would encourage anyone to read as much material on it as they can and create their own opinion. Isn’t that what we do with everything else? Religion shouldn’t be absolved from that.

Poetry has allowed me a positive avenue to vent and anytime religion finds itself at my pen, I now encourage discovery and self enlightenment first.

And I haven’t been happier and more at peace since.

I can’t hear you
I can’t feel you
I’m far too busy being
Immersed in the easel
I’m trying to paint the perfect picture
You know, the one where I never leave you
But I keep tripping over what’s supposed to be
Stepping stones
And it’s getting harder and harder to see you
Now I’m just here alone
I’m holding on against pandemonium
It gets lonelier
On this side of the podium
This is no way to live at all
I’m clinging on amidst the chaos
Everything seems set up just to break us
I’m sure either you or I is the traitor
And this no way to love at all
Where we just wait for the fall
It’s all a pile of leaves
I just want you to stay
But I don’t ever call
I don’t ever whisper your name
And the wind will blow it all away
The wind will blow it all away
And in the fall, I won’t be there to catch you
I can’t hear you
I can’t feel you
I’m far too busy being
Immersed in the easel
I’m trying to paint the perfect picture
You know, the one where I never leave you
But I keep tripping over what’s supposed to be
Stepping stones
And it’s getting harder and harder to see you
Now I’m just here alone
Guarding against a fall
And I won’t be there to catch
I won’t be there to catch you
…At all

wearemostaliveindreams:

Slept six inches
from beautiful people,
pickled in champagne
and stoned, whispering
about five years ago
when happiness was
plucked from the roots,
of ponderosa pine groves.

We are a single
consciousness,
thatched with tendrils
of coastal foam and
Midwest pocket
watch grease.

I will release myself
into the natural wonder,
that is a collection of
magnetic souls when
the desert asks for
my name again.

esn13:

That night, he drank sorrow from the bartender’s hands,
went quietly home, and
lay down beside her.

His maudlin confessions tasted of
wax and thorny branches
to her ears.

She turned around,
with him watching as her back
fell; rose; fell,
and plucked a truth
from his shoes
and left.

midnightvalkyrie:

I was baptised in fire and confirmed in ice. 
The frozen hell dusted snowflakes on my lashes
and the flames stained ash on my fingertips.
Death didn’t wear its confusion well when I stepped
through the threshold unscathed. Or perhaps I mistook
its confusion for fear, for it breathed, 
“You should not be alive.”

midnightmasquerade:

I long to step out
of this satin skin,
to count the secrets
sealed along my
vertebrae—
precious pieces
of parchment
stained with memories
of love

I want to peel
away
the layers of
my heart,
uncover the purity
that once flooded
my soul

I yearn to scrape
through the marrow
of these bones..
..perhaps I’ll find
myself
buried there..