Max Factor's Sow, By Brian37

A message in a web
Wont save you
You are not
"Some pig"

The pin prick
Parlor Trick
Of the fake suicide
On the cross

Is moral bankruptcy
Like a stalker
With a gun to their head
"Look at what I did for you"

I didn't ask you to
And what right do you have
To tell me
Who to forgive?

And if I don't accept you
My fate is sealed
Without my input
Or consent

The message
In that vile web
Isn't that
Of a silent spider

It is of selfishness
And self glory
Taking away
My mind and rights

Charlotte did not
Ask for fame
In the story
She went away

No one knew
What she did
Nor did she seek
The spotlight

But you
You aren't even dead
According to your fans
You still promote yourself

Doing the right thing
Is doing it
Even when
You get no recognition

"Look at me, look at me"
"I suffered for you"
But if you don't kiss my ass
I will torture you.

Charlotte has morals
And sought no personal fame
She wasn't promoting herself
Or making threats to follow her

If I chose to follow
That should be my choice
If I chose to forgive
That should be my choice

But to follow me
And shoot yourself
Is sick
A mental disease

And even after that
You don't stop there
You threaten me
If I leave

There are much better morals
In that children's book
Than in
That vile myth

"I love you"
That is why I killed myself
But if you try to leave me
I will kill you too.

Jesus is the pig
With whore ruby red
Lipstick on his lips
Spewing vile threats
(end)

My friend Bob Spense put it aptly that the "sacrifice" story in the magical death of Jesus is immoral.

He is a third party who takes away your personal right to associate with others and decided for you without your permission who you forgive or don't forgive. He commits suicide to get attention, not to your plight or suffering, but for his own self promotion. And if you chose to leave him or not believe in him, he follows you and tortures you forever.

Bob equated the death story of Jesus as rightfully "lipstick on a pig". I quite agree and this poem is a reflection of that sentiment.

All This Time, By Brian37

I am to believe
By proxy of brand
That you have the answers
All others have missed

Volcano's once gods
Today you scoff
Yet a sky daddy
You still peddle

If I only knew
Of seventy two
If I only knew
Of of virtue so true

All this time
This mystery
That humans fight over
And create misery

All this time
It was a simple matter
Of picking the right team
Instead of searching for answers

I am glad I accepted
The sun and the moon
Being the separate sources
Of light we see,......oh wait

I am glad I forced
Women to cover
Accepting submission
To stroke our ego

It matters not
In the least
On ancient myth
On which I feast

The sun a god
Must be true
For popularity
In no dispute

All this time
I had it wrong
For wishful thinking
Is all it takes

I am right
Because I claim
A super hero
Will save the day

Iran, Your Days Are Numbered, By Brian37



Look to the Pyramids

Look to the future

Neda is still there

And humanity remembers



You will not win

In your absolutes

Your tyranny

Is obsolete



Before it is to late

Give it up

Scorched earth policies

Will doom us all



Allah Akbar

Is what you claim

But of bloodshed

Is your harvest



How petty

This hero you claim

To put dissent

Before humanity



His biggest worry

According to you

Is to kiss his ass

Or suffer his wrath



Yet of 7 billion

All do need

Food and shelter

And love of friends



Your days are numbered

Of dictation

Death to tyrants

Of any kind



Free free humanity

Neda will win

And over your pettiness

Our species will prevail

Mohammad is not Ali, Fortunately, By Brian37



In the land windmills

And clogs

Her uppercut to misogyny

Is much needed



Her butterfly looks

Hold the sting of truth

No superstition

Can take her punch



She scoffs at subission

And the idea of such

Well behaved women

Penned not in history



Not made of Clay

Yet of that substance

In order to end

Submission of women



This prophet they hail

Is neither the boxer

Or Ali

And pale in comparison



Their men are weak

Their religion old

And will fall

To women so bold



To muster her strength

Just a mere fraction

Is to free humanity

From tribal pasts



They will not win

Women have voices

And your old ways

Will not be tolerated



She always has

A mighty right cross

Truth is her fist

MUHAMMAD GOES DOWN!

(end)

This poem is an ode to one of my heros in Ayaan Hersi Ali.

Anthropomorphism, By Brian37



In early days

Of the sapient

Fear of earth

Made it god



Volcanos got mad

Shook them like fleas

Smothered them

Until they prayed



Angry clouds

Angry ocean

Incantations

To bring migration



Then the gods

Grew limbs and faces

Became like us

In more places



Compete they did

In the family of kings

Tribal super heros

Have arrived



To many to count

Akanaton tried to scale down

He made the sun

The one true god



Then the Zoroaster

Then the Jews

Do they really believe

This is something new?



Anthropomorphism

Even today

Makes the universe

A thinking being



Why do humans

Insist on a "who"

With magical powers

To provide protection



It is fingers crossed

It is lucky socks

Lucky numbers

With epic delusion



If horses had gods

Someone once said

We make up gods

And that is what is



Volcanos are not gods

And gods are not families

Cosmic dictators

Of monotheism



All of these

Are merely fiction

Of human desire

Of wanting protection



Anthropomorphism

Is the projection of

Human qualities

And superstition



There was no god

And never will be

No mater the conjured

Fantasy

Sic Semper Utopia, By Brian37



Entropy screams out loud

At the whims of fraud

100% goes in

100% will not come out



Yet the utopia thinking

The scourge of thought

Leads the moth

To the light bulb



I am the driver

Do it my way

Do not question

It will be ok



Stalin's garden

Is as bloody

As the Inquisition

And Sharia Law



A man in a Palace

Protecting pedophiles

Claims the truth

From high above



Childish tribalism

Did not uncover

The truth of galaxies

Or Gamma rays



DNA has no politics

And cares not of our strife

Of whom we love

Or whom we hate



The universal

Is plain as day

That we are born

Only to die



Sic Semper Utopia

Perfection chased

Is futility

When all we have

Is humanity



Before is after

Both are the same

Atoms decay

And so too mythological claims



The lie of perfection

The futile utopia

Are the rants of tyrants

And insecurity



To be a Paine

Is to learn

To boldly question

Like Jefferson



To accept what is

And shades of gray

While seeking answers

Objectively



One species

Are we all

Give up on utopias

Lest we fall
(END)

This poem is a challenge to humanity to give up on the idea that we must dominate each other in order to lead humanity in the right direction.

Utopias do not exist and we must, in order to extend our finite ride, give up on the idea that we can rid ourselves of each other. We can, however, use the free market to compete with each other with our ideas and marginalize absurdity by allowing for the scrutiny of any and all claims.

We have given up on bad claims in the past. We have given up on the claim that the earth is flat. We no longer think that epilepsy is a demon possession. We no longer think the sun is a thinking being.

That is not to say that cant believe what they want. Human empathy should transcend all labels in the right to make any claim one wants. But equally important is the quality control of such claims to be subject to scrutiny and blasphemy.

Human empathy is not a utopia. It is the recognition that we are all individuals and ALL OF US are capable of the same range of human emotions and actions, both good and bad.

Part of that empathy is our individual desire to complain or even ridicule that which we don't like. I do it, you do it, everyone does it. Avoiding hearing things one doesn't like, via force of law is the quickest road to fascism, be it the likes of a theocracy like Iran, or the fascism of worship of the state like Stalin.

We only have one planet to live on. Clubs will exist and all of us flock to like minded people, that is normal and part of our social evolution.

Our priorities however, are backwards. While accepting that differences occur, we must not make those differences our priority, but our common interest that we all have family, we all want love and peace, and we all want to complain about things we don't like.

What makes us human are the things we have in common, not the artificial labels we set up. Maximizing peace is not done out of force or squash of

Paghman Gardens, By Brian37

In the land
Of the Taliban
Before their rule
There was hope

Is not the label
But mundane behavior
Theism stifles
Progress in humans

For every advance
Our species makes
Superstition's grip
Holds us back

This beautiful park
Blown apart, along with
Buddhist statues
In this same country

Islamic Dark Ages
Thus they are stuck
Oppression the law
Protecting their god

Stay or go
Misses the point
Superstition
Is the cause

To put tradition
Above human life
Just because
Some holds a belief

I am tired of
People pretending
Religion is good
And is not a weapon

Ask those burned
In Salem Mass
Ask the victims
Of the Inquisition

Ask the slaves
White Christians owned
Ask Native Americans
On the Trail of Tears

Martyrs are not heros
There is no such thing
They are merely bullies
Trying to claim

"Honor me"
Without question
Question not
My obsession

I fail not
To accept
Belief will happen
That I accept

But to avoid
Such destruction
Blasphemy laws
Must be questioned

Our civility
Cannot be built
On taboo laws
Of selfishness

To the Muslims
In the east
Lose your lust
Of forced submission

You will not get
Conformity
Nor that of
Civility

When all you do
Are make demands
That your god
Of all commands

Bullies are tyrants
History be damned
Christian's tyranny
Results the same

In our age
Of Facebook
You will not win
Blowing things up

There are those
Under your rule
Who will no longer
Be played the fool

There are those
In the East
Who really do
Want world peace

You will not win
In the age of Twitter
Of making threats
Of killing others

Far to many
Around the world
Are wise to the scam
Of theocratic power

What you can do
For yourself
Is to GROW THE FUCK UP
And move forward

Theocentric
Islam not be
Of 7 billion
And never was

Our species owes it
To this acceptance
To rid itself
Of childish tribalism

NOW TO ANY MUSLIM READING THIS, most in the west value the human right to believe what you want. BUT there is a huge difference between the right to hold a religion, and setting up a taboo where that religion can never be questioned.

A TABOO is a taboo, no mater who sets it up, be it Christians or a state such as China or the Former Soviet Union. TABOOS only piss off the outsider and minorties and create more human division.

THERE IS NO ALPHA MALE deity on a planet of 7 billion. OTHERWISE this pictures you see in that link create the garbage dump you prop up. If you don't want to be treated like human garbage, or live in a dump, then don't act like you deserve it.

http://www.atheistforums.com/viewtopic.php?f=20&t=33130 Scroll down to see what religion does to progress.

Virtue Of The Oppressed, By Brian37

Christian in
The coliseum
Persecution
Via death of lion

China's strong arm
Over Tibet
Buddhist monks
Burn themselves

Sunni's and Shiites
Do the same
Point the finger
And falsely claim

And the beef
In Ireland
Is no different
Than Palestine

It stems from
Our empathy
For the under dog
Forgetting the harm

Forgetting the harm
In evolution
When we finally win
We do the same

Virtue long term
Has no meaning
In a species
That keeps forgetting

We oppress
For the same reason
We don't want
To be oppressed

In group out group
Us vs them
The underdog
Can go on to be dangerous

The other guy
Always wrong
Is our mistake
When our past the same

DNA
Is what we have
Our wants and needs
Always transcend

Power shifts
Over time
Once on the bottom
We climb to the top

We climb to the top
And do the same
Often forgetting
What was done to us

The rational conclusion
We must all accept
To avoid the past
There can be no virtue of the oppressed.

Worship, By Brian37

The futile exercise
Of defaulting to emotions
Throwing pragmatism
Under the bus

In many forms
Thus it takes
To that of gods
And that of states

From politicians
To celebrities
To our parents
And our friends

To exalt
With out question
Can and does
Lead to destruction

The cruelty
Of evolution
Has us born
As mere sponges

Our heads get filled
With cultural memes
Grow up with hormones
Leading to division

Worship must die
And be replaced
With that of reason
And ability to question

The idea of perfect
Does not exist
No human is special
None ever were

Sans Souci, By Brian37

He could
In his limo
Drive through
The ghetto

Thinking to himself
How cleaver he was
On his own
All by himself

Sans Souci
On his private jet
Flying over
The empty factories

Off to fronds
At the 18th hole
Gloating about
Becoming CEO

And his labor
Left to toil
No health care
No livable wage

How long
Can this sustain
Before he looses
His market base?

Sans Souci
He will not be
When no one can buy
What he sells

19 Hundred And 84 Animals, By Brian37

Winston's daily grind
Was solitary
The hole
Of every prison

Political propaganda
Kept him from his love
And the pigs on the farm
Fought for power

With double speak
Your walking limbs
Were a litmus test
Determined by numbers

Having 2,
The enemy
Having 4
All must fight

Orwell's message
Obvious
Blindly buying
Blindly following

Plato's utopia
In those books
Are what he warned of
When we don't question

Hostage, By Brian37

The phone rings
Inside the house
Blue and red lights
Outside

Sweating
And shaky
He picks up
The phone

The voice asks
"What are your demands
What will it take
For you to let them go"

The phone rings
Inside the bank
Sweaty and shaky
He answers the phone

Crouching in fear
Or prone face down
The victims think
Of their loved ones

Will they make it
Out of the house
Will they make it
Out of the bank

The Swat Team
Can only be reason
Aimed at a god
Who holds us hostage

Deities shake in fear
In the face of reason
Our mental placebos
Hold us hostage

Putting guns to heads
Is no way to rule
If they cannot leave
On their own

If they cant leave
And must obey
That all you are
Is a hostage taker

Halliburton Transplant, By Brian37

Our former VP
Was in need
Of a transplant
But did he wait?

Did the doctors do
The right thing
And make him wait
On the list?

Were those in need
Of lesser means
Without the power
He yielded?

Did Cheney
Get his wish
By proxy of money
By proxy of title?
(end)

For those who don't know former VP Dick Cheney got a heart transplant. I would love to think he got it the fair way on a list, but we are talking about the same party that wants health insurance companies to be the death panels because their attitude is "fuck you if you cant pay"

Pruning Roses, By Brian37

On every stem
We seek to avoid
While amorous thoughts
Well in our heads

Pine and pine
Offerings we give
Ignoring the prick
Of cognitive dissonance

It is the thorn
That draws blood
It is the thorn
Humanity scoffs

It is the thorn
Of the finite
It is the thorn
Of ignorant plight

It is our refusal
To face reality
Roses die
Like all of life

It is a thorn
If one is to face
Give up on fantasy
Give up on myth

Tyson, By Brian37

In the ring
In contemplation
Without tatoos
Or brawn

Took on a dog
Without gloves
With the admiration
Of this dog's discovery

The Mid West's files
Who put the dog
On the map
Held no umbrage

To Tyson's findings
That this dog
Was smaller
Than prior claimed

Scientists do box
As they should
It is how
We learn and grow

Tyson punched reality
And made Pluto
The rightful dwarf
It should be

Cogito Ergo, By Brian37

Fog lifts
Dusty mist
Burned off
By scrutiny

Traditions
Die rightfully
The future here
Cogito ergo

Cogito ergo
I leave behind
The child's mind
Thoughts mature

He's not there
Cogito ergo
Material required
For thoughts to occur

Egyptians were wrong
Mount Olympus
Apollo too
Cogito ergo

Cogito ergo
Thus monotheism
Meets the same fate
Darwin won

Dawkins too
Because of them
Cogito ergo
All must do

The fog has lost
To scrutiny
Cogito ergo
Is my duty

They Must Be Giant Homophobes, By Brian37

The Super Bowl winners
Of this year
Played not even
In proclaimed city

Ann Coulter
Rightfully predicted
If Cris Cristie did not enter
The presidential race

The right would lose
And they will
Rightfully
Because of bigotry

Because of Ann
Because of fear
That anything different
That does not conform

Sic Semper 2.0, Death To Pedestals, By Brian37

Sic Semper Utopia
A poem I wrote
Now again
I expound upon

7 billion
Our planet has
To demand taboos
And think we are special

Our common law
Is all we have
Not our interests
In what we favor

I have no right
To say to you
I am special
By proxy of label

Pedestals are demands
Of insecurity
Ones based on
Ego and credulity

The morgues of humanity
Are filled with the chosen
The martyrs of nationalism
Political party and theocracy

And deaths call
Beats us all
In every province
In every state

In every country
All meet this fate
Of such
None will escape

Sic Semper pedestals
Question blind loyalty
To both
Church and state

Question China
And their abuse
Question Iran
And their theocracy

Question class warfare
Waged by the rich
Not the free market
Just it's monopoly

Jefferson Jefferson
Call from your grave
That no one is special
We all are the same

Sic Semper Pedestals
Through common law
We are all humans first
If we wish not to fall

I want our morgues empty
And no more plights
No more dogmas
Of any kind

Old age old age
The only real honor
Of our species
Worth fighting for

Sic Semper pedestals
Question with boldness
All taboos
That seek special status

Arms are arms
Legs are legs
Blood is blood
No mater where one lives

Sic Semper pedestals
Through reason and compassion
Through understanding
All human suffering

This poem I wrote shortly after 9/11 back in 01. I read it at a Unitarian Church where I used to live and it got loud applause and cheers. While I have grown more cynical of religion and it's divisions, the them of the poem I still agree with that humanity was the victim in our tribalism that leads to such events. It also reflects the selfish nature of Christianity at the time that they falsely put forth the idea that only they were victims. The beauty of those towers and is not that religion exists, but in spite of religion, they stood as monuments that people of diversity could live in peace which is why the towers were aptly named "The World Trade Center". I consider this my best poem ever. A copy of it still sits in that church.

Ego Divinely Inspired, By Brian37

The Twin accordions,

Burned and crumbled like match sticks,

No longer playing the music,

Of the briefcase.

3,000 ways,

To say, "I hate you"

But on that day,

None of the quad-Kamikazes

Shouted "Bonsai"

But Allah had his say.

Yet the burning Bush,

In the Marlboro Mansion,

Prays 1600 times,

To guide the bombs,

That maim and kill,

Creating massive tombs.

Do they think,

They are back in school,

Swinging on monkey bars,

Bragging about the biceps

Of their origins?

Is this what humanity has been reduced to?

I don't remember,

Those accordions,

Ever playing monochromatic music,

Jesus, yet be,

The only Icon,

Displayed in their absence.

That day,

Is not the ulcer of Genesis,

Or the embarrassment of Mohammed,

It is the manifestation of shame,

That humanity doesn't listen,

To the music of the accordions.

One side attacks,

The other points the finger,

But no one listens to the screams,

The screams of history.

Stop!

It is not your day, Christians,

It is not your Jihad, Muslims.

It is your stupidity,

In claiming the monopoly,

Of self-righteousness.

Those accordions,

Played the music of desire,

Of those of the Mosque,

Those in the pew,

The music of the Yammica,

And long earlobes too.

The forecast that day,

Called for morning snow,

Each flake a fragment,

Of invoices, and resumes,

Of proposals, and payrolls.

This was a ticker tape parade,

Where loathing sat in the convertable,

Waving his fist maniacally at the by-standers,

Daring history to repeat itself.

Screaming of divine intervention.

And the burning Bush,

Responded in kind,

And prayed to his absolute,

Screaming for divine inspiration.

The memory of the music,

The accordions used to play,

Should not be lost in selfish idealism.

Demanding only one way.

Jesus was not the only victim,

Nor Bush, nor me,

The attack on the towers,

Was an attack on humanity.

The cross is the only,

Outlined in chalk,

Crime scene investigators,

Step over the corpses,

Of Yahweh and Allah,

Visnu and Buddha too.

The white cards,

Never marked their graves,

Ever to be photographed.

Still today,

We want Moore Religion,

Massive stones marking our territory,

Like a lion pissing on a bush,

And wonder why we are attacked.

You fools,

It's not the book you read,

It is your arrogance,

In loading the 3:57

And praying for divine guidance,

For the bullets to hit their mark,

So you can maintain your selfish status qoe.

I can give you nine hundred and eleven,

Reasons in human history,

Ego divinely inspired,

Will lead to the human pyre.

Or kin of past,

Or so we claim,

Have past discretions,

We're not to blame.

My index,

Is not aimed at you,

It is of lessons not learned,

Wisdom not earned.

Socrates was in those towers,

He too was a victim,

Made to drink the hemlock,

And jump from the accordion,

Grasping at the last notes of life.

Vainly clawing at the sky,

A victim of pantheistic zealots,

Ending in a gruesome thump.

Galileo too,

Crashed into the marble walls,

Numbering in five.

Because of the ego,

Of the cross,

The world is flat,

And I'm the boss.

Yet in modern day,

The accordions play,

Morbid notes of ego's say,

It will continue to our dismay.

Yes, it will continue,

Least religious ego,

Give up it's venue.

(end)

Note, "Moore" is judge Roy Moore who refused to have a monument of the 10 commandments removed from his court building.

This poem is about a guy named Stewart, whom I knew in a poetry group. At my first meeting back in 91 he criticized another poet, who's poem I loved. Art can only be subjective and this was my "fuck you", to him.

Free My Words, By Brian37

If you cannot see the colors

In a rainbow,

Then the rainbow has appeared

Has appeared in vain.

When I find my strength,

My energy does not come from you.

You say you are a mechanic,

But of troubles,

My car is free,

So of your services,

I do not need.

You consider me raw,

So you must be refined,

Elitist bastard!

Refined not so of you,

Just cluttered eyes,

That are nearly closed.

Rhythm is for songs,

Do we need rhythm,

To convey emotion?

Do you cry in couplets?

If a tear comes out square,

It is still a tear,

With as much beauty.

So tip your pinky,

Sip your tea of poems,

While I share the rainbow.

This following poem is my "what if" Mrs Vorhees from the Friday the 13th series had a bitch fest with Medea of the Greek play. I have to shorten the original title "The Art of Good Housekeeping PMS On The Couch".

The Art Of Good Housekeeping, By Brian37

One at a camp

A lake of Crystal

Sex while he drowned

Vengeance her missile

She picked them off

One by one

With arrow or axe

Defiled their fun

Medea

Long before

Crippled Jason

For making a whore

The comic book bible

On the waiting table

In Freud's office

I created this fable

In his room

Both awaited

The therapy session

Discussing reasons why they hated

"My son, my son"

Mrs V exclaimed

"They let him drown

Made him a clown"

To this Medea

Did so scoff

"Jason abandon me

And ran off"

"I had no choice

And every reason

To make him pay

To get even"

"I killed his wife

The King so too

And our kids

To tell him we're through"

The whistle of hot water

Piercing through her kettle

Killing your own kids

Made Mrs V unsettled

"WHY WHY WHY

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE"

"YOUR KIDS" She screamed

"WERE NOT PART OF HIS SCHEME"

Medea retorted

"Look who is bitching

You slaughtered others

Leaving limbs twitching"

"That's not the same

Mrs V did claim

"Of sex and drugs

All shall abstain"

"With every last breath

I did so for lesson

To teach the young ones

To avoid distraction"

"Oh on your horse, aimed so high

Your righteous virtue"

Medea laughed

"Don't make me cry"

Vesuvius

Was about to erupt

Contempt for Medea

Mrs V deemed corrupt

"How dare you compare

My pain to yours

You slaughtered innocence

Of that I abhor"

Both stood up

Face to face

Nose to nose

Defending their case

"Collateral damage"

Medea responded

"In the war of love

He left me despondent"

Medea not wanting

To take any blows

From Mrs Voorhees

A trap instead, she would throw

In a deceptively conciliatory voice

Medea stated

"I understand

You didn't like my choice"

Mrs V sat back down

Picked up a magazine

Crossed her legs

On fidgeting

Medea went on

To explain

"To let it go

Would have been insane"

While the pages

Mrs V was agitatedly flipping

Medea turned aside out of her view

For in poison, a peppermint she was dipping

Medea turned back

Smiled while offering the trap

"Cut me some slack

Perhaps you are right, I deserve the flap"

"It just makes no sense"

Mrs V queried, accepting the peppermint

"To kill your own kid

Is beyond my reason"

As she unwrapped it

It did crinkle

Upon her tongue

It started to tingle

She rolled it around

From cheek to cheek

Medea a waiting

For the poison to peak

With a muffle

In her voice

Mrs V conceded and nodded

"Maybe you had no choice"

The numbness began to set in

First her tongue, then her chin

Then the panic of realization

She knew her life was about to end

Nay would she ever let on

To Medea, she knew she was gone

"If I go down

I'll be strong"

"Would you kindly retrieve for me

On that counter over there that magazine"

Medea did so, not observing

The lamp that Mrs V was procuring

With a home run swing

And sharp crack

The scull of Medea

Gushed blood from the back

Both stammered and stumbled

In vile admiration both were humbled

The evil smiles and piercing glances

Reminded both of the end of Hamlet

They collapsed as they gasped

Smashing the table end ending this fable

In timeless imagination

The gory enable

(end)

I wrote this as an ode to the classics of ancient times that without, none of our modern culture could contain the  monsters and bad guys  the Stephen King types or the dreamers of the Friday the 13th characters would have happened.

Subordinate, By Brian37

Hollow words
Are uttered
Honor and glory
And even of crime

Power and control
Are all we seek
Cooperative leading
Or via force

Seeking affirmation
Protecting the ego
Inventing reasons
To justify actions

We do so to give
And do so to harm
All to fill gaps
In our existence

We deny
That we want
Subordinates
To influence

We deny
We want dominance
We deny
It is about self

Subconscious
Our actions mostly
Seeking the same thing
Finding self, by harmony or hurt

To stop the harm
We must see range
We must see actions
Of being mundane

The motive the same
To be on top
Sense of control
To have power

It is why humans rape
It is why we invent
Labels of politics
And religion

Crime and compassion
Both lead by this
Politics and envy
Lack of food

Abused kids
Grow up to abuse
Abused generations
Grow up to abuse

Until we realize
Collectively
Our goal the same
Harm will repeat

It will take form
In violent crime
It will take form
In global war

When will we see
It is both nature and nurture
When will we see
Above not none are?

We are one species
And must give up
On ideas of subordinates
Or making clones of others

Crime must be seen
For what it is
Desperate acts
Or mental illness

We must see
Other nations
Not as nations
But of our own species

Until we do
Conflict will rise
Creating more poverty
Creating more crime

Creating more war
Because we collectively ignore
Evolution does not care
Who we are.

Mega Millions, By Brian37

The tally of a decade

Of those who get taken

By the poly mortis sickle

The jackpot 50 million

5 million a year

From young to old

Die from everything

From disaster, disease, hunger, old age, or war.

Thus the word

That of "Miracle"

Is the ignorant refrain

In selection bias and sample rate error

And the objection

Stated long ago

By Epicurus

Still holds true

If he is watching

And protecting

Then one can only conclude

He sucks at his job

5 million a year

50 million a decade

Stillborns to heart attacks

Cancer to car accidents

Gang murder

Bombs in war

And you dare to assert

A super hero?

How about

Some reason

How about

A little reality

That neither the good

Or bad in life

Need gap answers

Of superstitious strain

That which harms us

We try to avoid

We can only delay

But cant avoid

We are not

Nor ever were

The product of magic

Or folklore

4 billion years

Our home has existed

Always with violence

Always with death

Meteor strikes

And will again

It's molten core

So too will end

No magic needed

For good or bad

Its only been nature

When we die or survive.

Now while this next poem is a bit cliche, I like the flow of it, and it IT IS OLD, it was when I was an agnostic theist. But it reflects my youthful pining of a woman I wanted to date and did date for a brief time. She was a redhead, like orange blond, with green eyes. She will never know I wrote a poem about her. I will type it exactly as I typed it back then.

The Peach Tree, By Brian37

The peach

with auburn hair,

The peach

with hazel eyes,

Smooth and tender,

is her skin,

A touch I would surmise.

So sweet,

is the sound,

of your voice,

Caressing my ears,

tempting my mind,

Fondling my soul.

Within the peach,

lies a vixen,

coaxing me,

with her nectar.

So little,

of this peach,

knowledge I do know,

So much,

Of this peach,

I wait for her

to show.

Dance with me peach,

dace with my soul,

no need of sheets,

To make this whole.

Find me peach,

let me search for you,

Predict only time will,

if this can be true.

The peach,

with auburn hair,

The peach,

with hazel eyes,

Let us take it,

as it goes,

to see what will arise.

Divine are so,

your branches,

on which I wish to climb.

Your leaves,

show your spirit,

bright, playful, green,

Shading other's worries,

caring you have seen.

Loose not,

the sight of the sun,

Expand your leaves,

to soak up the nourishing rays,

Raise your branches,

higher and higher,

Dig your roots,

Deeper and deeper.

Nourish others,

with your smile,

brighter than the sun,

Open your hazel eyes

So all should see them sparkle.

You are,

your own strength peach,

We are,

a minute in infinity,

I will cherish any minute,

that you spend with me.

(end)

Oh my raging hormones. She turned out to be a hypocondriac(sp) ended up dumping me in any case.

I wrote this about the tv movie "The Burning Bed" a story based on real life woman who killed her abusive husband.

Violent Vows, By Brian37

"I love you"

Or so he said,

So she seeks affection

In his bed

Underneath

The affection and love

Is a beast

Seeking violence above.

"Marry me"

"Yes I will,

You are just the spirit

I want to kill"

So the vows exchange,

"With this ring

I thee wed'

"With this fist,

I thee tread"

Screams of terror

Ring out loud,

But there still is silence,

In the crowd.

Let us defuse

This dynamite,

Care for the hurt,

And end their fright.

(end)

Now while spousal abuse is far less tolerated, at least in the west, it still goes on. But in less developed countries and even women in Islam, still suffer at the hands of male bullies and sexist social norms. Unfortunately it still applies today.

I did change the last line today.  It did read "and end this fight". It seems more appropriate to tell all women that love should not involve hitting and no man should be feared.