A Forgotten World’s Last Goodbye

To die such a beautiful death and to have never lived,
what a way to end it all. I have never felt such power
as when the knife lies bloody at my side. Could it be
that love is a broken china doll? God a figment or my
imagination?

No, that can't be right. Love a china doll? God a figment
of a twisted mind's deadly imagination? No, not that.
Truth is a tiger's breath, rancid with the smell of death,
dripping with the poison of living a lie. Love is not a
reality, but a child's dream that lies forgotten in a corner
after much time.

Whoever said love existed, must have been trying to
make the world a happier place, change the frown on the
face of the human race. Well, love does not heal, it kills
and it fades and it lies by to ensnare me. Love is a grave,
deep and hollow, waiting for a bride to fall into it's muddy
arms, and fill the space that was so long empty.

So let all that is broken and bleeding flow to the sea, entrapt
in a watery tomb and forgotten by a world that no longer
feels. I will remain, drowned and held beneath bloody waves
of love. No man shall see me, lest he be dead and drowning
like me. And we will be a forgotten world's last goodbye, a
goodbye to all the hypocrisy and lies.

How I know that God loves us... (a NCC of Spencer Blog)

Okay, I was talking to a friend, aka: the pastor of the New Community Church of Spencer (which, in case you hadn't noticed has currently gone MIA), and he told me how he knows that God loves us... He presents his case to all the non-believers, atheists and agnostics in this way:
Pastor: Your honour, I am now going to provide the entire court with big pieces of fried chicken...
The fried chicken is passed out, everyone is contentedly munching on the chickeny goodness of it.
Pastor: I rest my case, your honour.
Judge: What case is that?
Pastor: I know that God loves us, because He made chicken delicious. And because chicken is so delicious, God must love us. He didn't have to make it taste so good, He doesn't have to do anything for us, but He did and He does. And I know that God loves us, because you are all enjoying that wonderful fried chicken. Case Rested.
And no one, not the atheists or the agnostics or the scientologists, can argue with that logic. Because the chickeny truth is inside them. They can not deny that chicken is amazing and therefore cannot deny that God loves them.
The entire world is harmonized in this fact and Chicken reigns supreme as the best example of God's Love, next to sending His son to die for us.

Now, the truth is, that there are many ways to tell that God loves us besides Chicken... for example: I wake up every morning to a beautiful sunrise and I sleep every night under a beautiful moon. I have a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in. And even if I didn't have these things, I would still know that God loves me because He sent His only (ONE AND ONLY) son to die a hideously painful death on a cross so that we would have eternal life with Him. If that doesn't spell out love, I don't know what does.

September's Tarantella

Turn out the light and follow me into
the everlasting black of night. Devoid of moon,
devoid of stars, all light faded into the bleak
darkness of our wicked hearts.
Court me in the dark, let us drink from
the cup of shared poison for I am parched.
Devour me, heart and soul. Covet me, break
me and make me whole.
Cordially, you kiss my hand. Violently, you take
all that is within me. God, that I were a
dark angel so that I might give you immortality.
Give you wings so that we might fly.
Turn out the light and let us break our
silence. There is a rare beauty in the
breaking. Take my pen to parchment and I
will write of the wickedness of this starless night.
For angels burn and mortals fail, demons love
and the stars fade into the darkest hell. And you
and I are lovers twain, starcrossed and ghosts in
this vicious reality.
Dearest Soul, all are blind. None can see,
none can find. Gripped in a precious
love that Dante ne'er could define and
all is black and white in your mind.
So, come down moon, die fair sun.
You and I will dance 'til dawn be a
dying world's last tearful goodbye.
And dying worlds cease to die.
Let all that is chaotic and lovely
chase all our knowledge away and
cleanse our souls for the brand
newest of days.
For never did I cry for tomorrows to
come, but for todays which will die. Let all
that is known be erased and we will begin again
in a different space.
No heaven, no hell. No blue ocean or bloody
red. And emptiness reigns where love knows no
bounds. And bloodfire lilies and ivory rose of old
are burnt 'neath the frozen hearts of the dead.
No mirror to see in,no bones to break.
Let all that we once loved tremble and quake.
And all will now fade, forgotten by some, loved by
a precious one and remembered by none.

Chaos Rising

You pour burning flowers down my throat,

Cast another lily on the fire. O that I had

Spoken sooner, caught your tongue like

A cat.

I had no idea that you would call, or that

Fire could be so cold. I hate that about you

Every flower you put on doesn't burn, only

Freezes my heart.

Do you know a riddle? Hit the nail on the

Head, carry the old woman to bed. Break

Me down, build me up, put another rose

On the fire.

Burn me down, burn me up. Kiss me with

Kisses that sear, lips that chill me to the bone.

Haunt my soul with those burnt flowers, let the

Ghosts of all that has passed, touch me.

I am not afraid of death, only of life that

Is so very unfair. Come, teach me Plato,

Teach me Shakespeare. Show me words

That can express the soul.

Define God to me, even though He cannot

Be defined. Define love in words that don't

Exist. Burn another flower on the cross

That you love, then cast me on as well.

Collapsed and broken, like the flowers you

Have burned. Am I bruised? Am I burnt up?

Do you still see me? Or have I faded like

Those unfortunate orchids?

Love me or hate me, kiss me or hit me. Don't

Let's stand here in this putrid silence. White

And black photos scattered on the floor,

Those photos burn as well.

So let's forget this whole matter, burn the

Flowers and pour them on my coffin. Let

Them bury me in the sea of simplicity. I

Care not for anything here.

So cast the marigold on the fire, let the

Beautiful flames fly up and let them cause

Everything else to fade away. I will remain

Hidden and open, buried by a flowery flame.