Spiritual

Atheists are not as perfect as they think

Call me sad if it makes you feel happy.
If it makes you feel normal, say I’m strange.
Act like I’m nothing if it gives you worth,
But the truth is something you’ll never change.

On
Butterfly Summer
An angel did fall
Stinging the tulips
And melting the dawns
Erasing from men's minds
The will to remember
Belauding the darkness
And praising the night

We were fed up with people getting married who should never have been married, and felt that this was weakening our church. So we invented a computer test.

Stand still and breathe
There is time
Ignore the voices in and out
The whiners and the beraters
The heartless and the deaf
Know that there is one who listens
When you sleep
When you cry

Sunset falls in the land of the dead
While the endless flow of humanity walks on
Creeping
Crouching
Never stopping in its incessant
Overtaking on the road to oblivion
Slow down
Allow the flow

Why does a humming bee
Secret the words
That we decline to trust
Why does he understand
The fledgling world;
That we commend to dust.

Is there not a flower
In the desert sand;

An Anzala Fahsha Mystery

a sonnet

Foam-flecked tendrils of salt-water-thoughts
Eagerly fingering the sands of the dream-like shores.
Grasping the bright silica flashes of intuition
And pulling them into the pulsing deeps

You bizzare creature
(so out-cast in this day and age):
in pretentious democracies you are oft misconstrued
as a one-sided monster of cruelty and rage

No doubt you are genuinely dangerous,

Every second is
A second
Of value
Every moment
Someone's dream comes true

Every minute is
A minute
Of fascination
Every moment
Someone's world seems bright

Every hour is
An hour

Daybreak brings a hope so grand;
Only in our torn dreams brier roses
Untangling do we begin to understand?
What sparkle in the shadows composes
The lyrics on the wind quietly broken

When You’ve Got It All

When you know you’ve got it all
Why do you want more?
What’s wrong with your existence?
You view pleasure as a chore?
A round of roles and duties

Calvary Cross

The time has come and I must leave
Force my burden up the hill
The crowd unsure: I start, I stop
Drag my cross by force of will

Last resting place in blazing sun

Sometimes I want to become a farmer.
Not because my ancestors were farmers
And I’m supposed to have it in my blood,
Nor is it because I’ve lived on a farm
And the experience inspired me.

Do you see the sinuous curve?
Do you see the coquette twirl in me?
Do you see how I reach out both ways?
Look both ways?
But still I look back to one.

And yet, and yet, I hold the

Samwise or Samson?

sonnet

NONET

A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables,
the second line eight syllables, the third line seven syllables, etc...
until line nine that finishes with one syllable.