Life’s to be lived dynamically, not on the hamster wheel, that stops week to week on a Sunday, so that you may report to some imposing mousy self-proclaimed authority figure / bonehead from the pulpit of the Roman Catholic Church.
The pursuit of life is simple.
1. Autonomy / Freedom
2. Truth
Now, introspect and ponder, in a clairvoyant state of mind, to pin down how many religious/political/corporations are feeding off your soul in the midst of this pursuit and rerouting you to the drain?
Now test them — by a slight shrug, a slight defiance — and watch these peace-promoting docile lambs assume their true identity of killers and thieves.
Having a sense of morality/moral fiber and moving on to accomplish the purpose the Creator has set for you.
He doesn’t need your little weekly attendance at makeshift institutions and your coin in the offertory box / donation boxes of ANY religion.
Who the heck are you? To give him anything, other than doing your basic duty for yourself and the Most High, to live a life of high moral fiber.
Yet free, and always chasing truth and freedom from confining limitations.
Platitudinous Sunday School
// poetry
Beliefs maketh the man,
Combustible house with erroneous walls,
The authentic soul being sized up on by the house,
Outnumbered and Outflanked by their puppets and dolls.
Running house to house, myth to myth,
Like a paper plane gliding on borrowed wind,
Is this another house of deceit?
Automated voice says, "Questioning this means you have mortally sinned"
Languishing in a new snuggly estate,
Flooding Inception of their thoughts in your mind,
This house was deemed the bejeweled cage,
The "Oh, Holy" broker tells every "unsaved" buyer that it's one of a kind.
Metamorphosis of a butterfly I sought,
In a systematic web of dogma I was caught,
The estate was demented to the bone with trap doors,
Past skeletons devoured by the house I fought.
Commonplace the metamorphosis of a frog,
Far from blooming & flying worth barely a hop,
The 4 soulless gospel
houses I bought left me in a deeper predicament,
Scaled the stairs of affluence, slid off the rooftop.
Like a snail I now tread cautiously on new pillars,
Ambidextrous in my tentacles and surveying feelers,
These beauteous houses of thought are destiny killers,
I kick to the curb superstition and charismatic healers.
