what if all the souls on earth had cellophane skin and we could see every organ and watch the blood flow to and fro from the heart as it beats steadily beneath the ribs what then would we choose to hate for surely man cannot live without hate would we choose how a voice sounds oh i suspect not we’d probably rely on color again except now the color of one’s eyes
my soul will not bleed you may tear away my flesh torture these old bones scream obscenities but i have learned of the truth and understand my self-worth so your words and deeds cannot penetrate my soul centuries of lies used as societal chains no longer bound my future to your perspective of life without breath or pulse i would rather be than forced to live as a slave to your will
first of all
i should note
that
the cat
never seemed
to
trust me
so
when i would bring
my old friend home
from
a concert
for
he could
no longer drive
at night
i couldn’t help
but
note
that
as i helped my friend
to the door
i could see
eyes peering
at me
from the darkness
it was
the cat
and
the cat
would only enter
the doorway
after i
had left
the immediate area
now
i’m not a believer
in souls
and
such
but
i must admit
the cat
seemed to be
linked to
the old man’s soul
and
as evidence
one night
the cat did not
appear
days went by
and
still no cat
neighbors searched
as
did i
but still
no cat
i presume
the coyotes
finally got
the cat
a natural process
but
none the less
sad
oh
now for the evidence
without the cat
the old man
seemed to quickly fade
becoming more
dependent
upon others
as if
he’d lost
one
of his lives
the cat
never
appeared
and
the old man
disappeared
into
heaven’s ether
i
presume
when all your dreams have vanished in the night how will you wake from the deep sleep of your despair will you offer up a prayer as morning doves warn you of the coming of the new day or will you merely melt into edges of your fears never to rise again
there are
more
dead
than alive
on
battlefields
so
many martyrs
rushing to death
to
save souls
lost
long
before
the battle began
but
blind belief
as
all
belief
has to be
since
belief
has no foundation
in
reality
it’s just
an undocumented
immigrant
outside the borders
of
reason
settling
wherever
there
is
a vacant heart
those
homeless encampments
thirsty
for
hope’s pure waters
said to flow
from
the fountain
of
youth
or
perhaps
the concept caves
of
rebirth
that
eternal existence
that can
shun
the coldest
of
death’s frosted earth
for
it is said
that the soul
rises
before
entering the grave
so
what use
were those bells
were
they for
just nonbelievers
who were
prematurely
ushered
into
the void
not
having a chance
to
declare
tho
hesitantly
their belief
in
the wonderland
of
afterlife
but
who is to say
since
no one
has
stepped forward
from
their crypt
to
provide
any
testimony
nothing
will be placed
upon
the earth
to
mark
that i was here
it is
by my choice
for
no one
really
looks at graves
oh
someone
may wander by
and
comment
about
a clever verse
inscribed
upon
the marble
but
it is
the inscription
that’s
recalled
not
the person
no one
ever really knew
the
person
that
housed the soul
beneath
the flesh
that’s
why
we’re not recalled
we began
as a faded image
and
death
merely bleached
what
was left
leaving
at best
a sketch
of
what
people wanted
to
believe
his prayers never saved a single soul nor kept death from the doors of those he loved his devotions to the divine were his hopes offered to his beliefs not to any one god just a simple contract with himself so as to have a reason for awakening
Read Between the Minds 