Category: Poetry

September 3 2002


Growing up in this society
Tends to erase the variety
By restricting your options
And forcing conformation

People say it’s not okay
To do this or do that
But somehow, for some reason
Its okay to be stupid but not fat.

Everything that we say
Is subject to fierce scrutiny.
And everything that we do
Is bound to motive mutiny

God is often forced upon us
Even if it makes us sick
And just because we do not listen
That makes us a heretic.

Hocus pocus, yadda yadda
Everything has a meaning.
But if you look all about you
You’d see a need for spiritual cleaning.

The debate becomes about a God
Which really there is no proof.
And really the discussion should be
What is real and what is spoof.

Beliefs are odd,
One must admit.
Just look at a cross
And think of it.

Jesus may have died upon
That horrible, wooden crucifix
But if he came back today
That sight again, might make him sick.

The irony of this place
Is tolerance, or lack thereof.
Too many people are full of hate
When really they should spread the love.

April 27 1999

Why do you punish people,
For doing what they enjoy?
Would you punish a little child,
For playing with his favorite toy?

If I am going to suffer,
I‘ll do these things anyway,
For if I‘m going to roast,
I‘ll enjoy myself today.

Of all of the abilities you gave me,
Why did you give me sight?
And why do you complain,
If I don’t see “the light?”

You say the end is coming,
But I have yet to see a clue.
Where is this messiah,
That comes in place of you?

The body is a temple,
In some cases I agree.
But usually those women,
Won’t even talk to me.

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