I slit these holy wrists with Occam’s Razor;
By bleeding out all that faith, I did my Spirituality a favor.
Religious Suicide I slit these holy wrists with Occam’s Razor; By bleeding out all that faith, I did my Spirituality a favor. -02-28-10- M. L. Michael
As I combed the beach
(as my fingers glided through the air)
I came across a unique sand castle,
one might even call it a sand estate,
with so many different shells and stones,
it was like the construction of some barely remembered culture,
right there, smack dab in the middle of nowhere/or nothing/ else. […]
-- I didn’t find a watch --
As I combed the beach
(as my fingers glided through the air)
I came across a unique sand castle,
one might even call it a sand estate,
with so many different shells and stones,
it was like the construction of some barely remembered culture,
right there, smack dab in the middle of nowhere/or nothing/ else.
I marveled at the complexity,
/eyes treasured the design/
and only briefly did I panic
when the ocean rolled on in,
as omnipotent as Poseidon’s
frothy-muddy-fingertips,
that flowed and swirled
and washed bit by bit away.
I looked around for the sand architect
to warn them of their castle’s imminent surrender,
but there was no one to be found,
and other than my footprints, there was no sign at all.
The sea waved back in, then out again,
and claimed bit by bit; grain by grain.
I shouted for the person I felt must be responsible
…but when no one answered I struggled with questions,
surely someone must have made this,
surely such a unique and intriguing sand sculpture
couldn’t come from any sort of accident…
I watched the ocean as it raced and tumbled through this incredible sand castle,
and I had to ask, who would create something so special,
knowing it would be destroyed, and washed away, forever?
Or am I wrong to assume for the role of the sand castle creator?
/Perhaps, instead,
it was the waves of the sea acting like the hands of a sculptor?/
…Now, what is more fantastic? (that which is finite?)
Amazing, how conditions had to be just right at this particular patch of beach,
at this particular time…for this intriguing sand castle to be formed.
I became so deeply enamored by this grand mystery…
…until I realized these contemplations were inconsequential.
And instead I should be focusing and appreciating
this most amazing and most distinct sand castle,
…because it is important to understand that I may not find another.
-01-10-10-
M. L. Michael
She died afraid for my soul…
She went to her deathbed thinking – I would be lost to her forever,
doomed to writhe for eternity in the fiery agony of sinners and nonbelievers.
She loved me as much as any blood could….yet…but…because I didn’t believe,
she tortured herself with the concept of Damnation and I – […]
She died afraid for my soul… She went to her deathbed thinking – I would be lost to her forever, doomed to writhe for eternity in the fiery agony of sinners and nonbelievers. She loved me as much as any blood could….yet…but…because I didn’t believe, she tortured herself with the concept of Damnation and I – of her beloved’s blood boiling in the rivers of Hades, forever separated from her and the love of her savior’s light. She died with that burning image. Leaving me with the tragic guilt - Of being condemned for a crime I couldn’t help but commit… M. L. Michael 01/05/10
I hope no one gets me wrong.
I hope no one thinks I loathe the light
(or – that I know all that’s right).
Far from the truth, I claim only my love to give love,
and I’m amazed and justified every time I hear
of some ful-of-wonder person completing
an act of able-love – human compassion, […]
To those who use Atheist as a dirty word… I hope no one gets me wrong. I hope no one thinks I loathe the light (or - that I know all that’s right). Far from the truth, I claim only my love to give love, and I’m amazed and justified every time I hear of some ful-of-wonder person completing an act of able-love - human compassion, and I’m unhinged and mortified every time I hear of some ful-of-fervor person creating an act of able-hate - human destruction. /05/16/09/ M. L. Michael
Sunday, they preach of fire and brimstone
and nonbelievers mixed
with all shades of sinners.
Down where Ghandi wails for God,
as a tempest below dizzies
Shakespeare forever in disarray, […]
A good Catholic’s Comedy
(with respects to Dante)
Sunday, they preach of fire and brimstone
and nonbelievers mixed
with all shades of sinners.
Down where Ghandi wails for God,
as a tempest below dizzies
Shakespeare forever in disarray,
and only a few circles further,
Hitler boils in a river of blood,
whilst over on the bank,
Slyvia Plath and Ernest Hemmingway
cry bloody awful in a mournful sway.
Monday, they preach of peace and love,
compassion and understanding,
everlasting,
(reserved strictly for the believers)
4/4/09
M. L. Michael
i find it easier to put my faith in poetry
than my constant struggle with the Holy Trinity…
i believe in verse that i can rehearse
above any Father i can never Fathom…
i believe in lyrics real as lilacs
instead of a Son too bright to never See… […]
A Poet First, A Blasphemer Second i find it easier to put my faith in poetry than my constant struggle with the Holy Trinity… i believe in verse that i can rehearse above any Father i can never Fathom… i believe in lyrics real as lilacs instead of a Son too bright to never See… all in all, i believe in words that carry their worth in weight not some Holy Spirit i can confuse with values i create. /01/14/09/ M. L. Michael
Every Breath Poetic 