Blasphemer
In addition...
Why is that I feel as if I've been saddled with a constant feeling of excruciating loneliness? With the sensation that I'm lost...? That I've been deserted by and made a slave to the euphoria that comes with the release of tension through the explicit-particular-delicious-alwaysalwaysalwaysaddictive infliction of pain? Less and less wavering I become as time passes [as a buffer] between my church visit and who-I-am-presentmoment. God does not exist. I won't allow myself to fall into a velvet-cushioned coffer full of lies. You won't have to follow me, boy. I know you can't. I won't leave you. 'Banish the thought,' I think, is the term best applied. "Still feel you on the inside, biting through and stinging...will I ever forget to remember?"
Romans 3:23
"For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God."
I went to church this morning. I sat through the service, I sang the hymns, I took communion.
I felt bitter inside.
Someone sang a song for the 'enjoyment' of the congregation; one of the lines struck me as both hilarious and outrageous: "He alone can grant wishes and make dreams come true."
Make dreams come true? What about those thousands upon thousands of individuals who suffer everyday? Do their dreams become audible to a lofty God, or are they 'misplaced?' Why did no miraculous sign come from God when I, a frightened girl with shattered faith, returned to the church of her childhood? When I took communion, I half-expected the bread to turn to ash in my mouth.
Let me say this again with half-wavering conviction: there is no God.
How do we know what to believe, though? How could ANYONE living on this blue ball of misjudgment and wasted chance know what, exactly, to believe? How did human beings come to be? Where do we go when we die? What happens when someone "sees the light?" Do people really die, or do the vessels that house their souls simply tire of their years' experiences on Earth and close their eyes? I don't know. I don't know. I don'tdon'tdon't know. Anything.
I'm completely lost. Going to church wasn't my choice. It's hurt me on the inside. It's wrecked my self-possession again. Our father who art in Heaven hallowed be thy name thy kingdom come thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil for thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever amen.
See how I've been branded...on that pulsating muscle trapped in my chest? Those words came up without thought, from memory, accompanying unshed tears. I've got scores of verses. Want to hear the Apostle's Creed? The Twenty-Third Psalm, maybe? Every time I think about it, think about the lies drilled into me by way of verse-and-song, I want to drill them back out again.
Now. Now now now. Ow. Ouch. I've articulated as best I can the futile things I felt while sitting on a wooden pew with a Bible in my lap. How about rambling thought-things? I'm so very sorry.
Poison in my head that led (most likely) to my coming undone by the light that shone through reds and oranges and blues...framed and lined and twined with grey lead (not supposed to speak, not supposed to hear...only pay attention like a plastic-eyed dolly). Oh. Sea-billows wave like prayer-pillows the tinsel-y glitter accumulating in my head since I've set myself free, free, freedom, kingdom [of His, of Heaven], mischancedom than made me want to sing and cry and absolutely throw up the weights that were placed by pats-on-the-head (such a good girl, smart girl, learned that verse overnight right!). He is love, He is faith, He made you make me learn Him a lesson. Do unto others so that My will be done regardless of your will; put your coins in the plate and know that My children are blessed because they have enough to feed themselves and keep the church in wafers and wine for ages. Ages. Ages to come, ages that were, He is love, He is faith, He is the reason I'm coming undone and unwound and hurthurtHURTING because I've realized (only now...only now...maybe I'll keep my mask up on a stick) that He doesn't exist. You don't exist. You don't! I'm SERIOUS!
What have you ever done for me, anyway? You couldn't even comfort me in my crying jags when I needed a father. My daddy is a pathological liar and a thief. Both are. I give up on you. I give up on everything. Give up. Give up. I need a hand. I need a shoulder. But beware my teeth.
Why is that I feel as if I've been saddled with a constant feeling of excruciating loneliness? With the sensation that I'm lost...? That I've been deserted by and made a slave to the euphoria that comes with the release of tension through the explicit-particular-delicious-alwaysalwaysalwaysaddictive infliction of pain? Less and less wavering I become as time passes [as a buffer] between my church visit and who-I-am-presentmoment. God does not exist. I won't allow myself to fall into a velvet-cushioned coffer full of lies. You won't have to follow me, boy. I know you can't. I won't leave you. 'Banish the thought,' I think, is the term best applied. "Still feel you on the inside, biting through and stinging...will I ever forget to remember?"
Romans 3:23
"For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God."
I went to church this morning. I sat through the service, I sang the hymns, I took communion.
I felt bitter inside.
Someone sang a song for the 'enjoyment' of the congregation; one of the lines struck me as both hilarious and outrageous: "He alone can grant wishes and make dreams come true."
Make dreams come true? What about those thousands upon thousands of individuals who suffer everyday? Do their dreams become audible to a lofty God, or are they 'misplaced?' Why did no miraculous sign come from God when I, a frightened girl with shattered faith, returned to the church of her childhood? When I took communion, I half-expected the bread to turn to ash in my mouth.
Let me say this again with half-wavering conviction: there is no God.
How do we know what to believe, though? How could ANYONE living on this blue ball of misjudgment and wasted chance know what, exactly, to believe? How did human beings come to be? Where do we go when we die? What happens when someone "sees the light?" Do people really die, or do the vessels that house their souls simply tire of their years' experiences on Earth and close their eyes? I don't know. I don't know. I don'tdon'tdon't know. Anything.
I'm completely lost. Going to church wasn't my choice. It's hurt me on the inside. It's wrecked my self-possession again. Our father who art in Heaven hallowed be thy name thy kingdom come thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil for thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever amen.
See how I've been branded...on that pulsating muscle trapped in my chest? Those words came up without thought, from memory, accompanying unshed tears. I've got scores of verses. Want to hear the Apostle's Creed? The Twenty-Third Psalm, maybe? Every time I think about it, think about the lies drilled into me by way of verse-and-song, I want to drill them back out again.
Now. Now now now. Ow. Ouch. I've articulated as best I can the futile things I felt while sitting on a wooden pew with a Bible in my lap. How about rambling thought-things? I'm so very sorry.
Poison in my head that led (most likely) to my coming undone by the light that shone through reds and oranges and blues...framed and lined and twined with grey lead (not supposed to speak, not supposed to hear...only pay attention like a plastic-eyed dolly). Oh. Sea-billows wave like prayer-pillows the tinsel-y glitter accumulating in my head since I've set myself free, free, freedom, kingdom [of His, of Heaven], mischancedom than made me want to sing and cry and absolutely throw up the weights that were placed by pats-on-the-head (such a good girl, smart girl, learned that verse overnight right!). He is love, He is faith, He made you make me learn Him a lesson. Do unto others so that My will be done regardless of your will; put your coins in the plate and know that My children are blessed because they have enough to feed themselves and keep the church in wafers and wine for ages. Ages. Ages to come, ages that were, He is love, He is faith, He is the reason I'm coming undone and unwound and hurthurtHURTING because I've realized (only now...only now...maybe I'll keep my mask up on a stick) that He doesn't exist. You don't exist. You don't! I'm SERIOUS!
What have you ever done for me, anyway? You couldn't even comfort me in my crying jags when I needed a father. My daddy is a pathological liar and a thief. Both are. I give up on you. I give up on everything. Give up. Give up. I need a hand. I need a shoulder. But beware my teeth.
posted by Ophelia at 9:29 AM
3 Comments:
I am sorry you were forced to church, I am sorry.. I am fucking sorry. I pray to the night that you do not fall to the Christian God, the fake and hate filled image of the fools.. I listen to Love's Requiem as I read your cry for this God... this God who once lived on a mountain, then in a golden chest.. before becoming the all powerful God. I am scared that you will fall to their lies, to their fear.. if you leave me alone, I will be alone once more.. I cannot come with you, not there.. I will stand like my forefathers and die alone.
- the Nolan
""He turned his face away from the proffered crucifix and died in silence.""
-- Santillana (Speaking of Giordano Bruno).
I go/am going thru the same thing. I hear the words, hear my mother, sisteter, sister's finacy talk about what God is. I have read the whole new testomnet. For a lot of reasones, all of wich are hightly subjective, I do think the God of chiristanty existes. I also think he is crule and heartless.
(poem)
And all that Job had lost
Was restored to him ten fold.
But what of Job’s losses?
What of the children he love
Killed
To make a point
to an angel
who wouldn’t see it anyway?
Will God wipe their faces
From Job’ heart?
Or
Will he pate Jobs shoulder
Saying
“Well done, my good servant.
You shall be greatly rewarded
For you sacrifice.”
If God made me such an offer
I’d spite in his face
All I can realy say in the end is your aren't alone in this spirtualy pain termoel thing.
Matt M.
"Where do you go when you die?"
A wooden box encased in concrete,
6 ft. below the rest of us.
"How did human beings come to be"?
Evolution and lots of screwing (AKA an accident)
"Do people really die, or do the vessels that house their souls simply tire of their years' experiences on Earth and close their eyes?"
... I don fuckin' know!
Post a Comment
<< Home