Monthly Archives: August 2015

Be nice and starve an artist

martyr-on-a-circus-ring-1869

Be nice and starve an artist.
His life is meaningless.
On air he should subsist
to maintain his success.

Be nice and slay an angel.
His wings are way too big.
Pave his sacred road to hell
and do not care a fig.

Be nice and fuck a virgin.
Her youth won’t last for long.
Caress her hair and touch her skin.
You can do no wrong.

Be nice and throw a preacher
into a lion’s den.
Let lions be his teacher
and not a crowd of men.

Be nice and burn a Bible.
For drivel it contains.
Why bother with such trifle
that keeps your mind in chains.

Be nice and hang a Jesus
into your living room.
His story never ceases
to inspire grief and gloom.

Be nice and waste this hour
if you want to make some strides.
This world is the will to power
and nothing else besides!

*Painting “Martyr on a circus ring” by Fyodor Bronnikov, 1869.

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What peace and blessings without a god

Portrait de Voltaire (Francois Marie Arouet dit, 1694-1778) tenant l'annee litteraire. Peinture de Jacques-Augustin-Catherine Pajou (1766-1828), 18eme siecle. Paris, Comedie Francaise

What peace and blessings without a god.
To be human is to be flawed.
In my mistakes I rejoice,
for happiness is all by choice.

What love and meaning without a deity.
I celebrate myself with gaiety.
My heart is filled with joy and peace
for I know all this will cease.

What happiness without god’s grace.
I have no shadows to embrace.
Freedom – such a precious thing.
To only her my soul will sing.

What wisdom without creeds, beliefs.
No gods and spirits my mind conceives.
In all the temples and sacred churches
I haven’t found anything to purchase.

What clarity without religious notions.
Let us speak without emotions.
I cleanse my tongue from god’s good word
and all that’s foolish and absurd.

*Painting “Portrait of Voltaire” by Jacques Augustin Catherine Pajou

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Today my poetry went fishing

the-poor-fisherman

Today my poetry went fishing
and caught this one cheerful verse.
Meaningless is all well-wishing
except if said in reverse.

Today my heart went wild and restless.
In my darkness I found light.
No words this feeling can express.
Gone are all my fears and fright.

Today my dreams went up in smoke.
I seek no fire in these ashes.
What is left seems to be broke.
The truth appears in flashes.

Today my thoughts went round and round
till they stopped and came to rest.
All my wisdom fell to the ground.
I’m glad I got it off my chest.

Today my life went down the drain
and I was left with this simple verse.
What have I to lose or gain?
I’m one with the universe.

*Painting – “The Poor Fisherman” by Pierre Puvis de Chavannes, 1881

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What if all my thoughts are due to illness

a-mortally-wounded-brigand-quenches-his-thirst-1825(1)

What if all my thoughts are due to illness
and my dreams because of pain?
Maybe that’s why I cannot rest in stillness
and all this living seems in vain.

What if all my days are not numbered
and the future is in my hands?
But if so, why am I so encumbered
with useless nonsense and silly plans?

What if all my stories are wrong
and my knowledge is mistaken?
But if so, why do I go along
with views I have already forsaken?

What if all my secrets were found out
and my troubles – made public?
Maybe then I could live without
worry and don’t care a lick.

What if all my moves are known in advance
and my free will is an illusion?
Then I live this life by chance
in senseless noise and confusion.

* Painting “A Mortally Wounded Brigand Quenches his Thirst” by Eugene Delacroix, 1825,

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If God exists, then where he hides?

john-brown-reading-his-bible-1942

If God exists, then where he hides?
In the center or to the sides?
High up above or down below?
This no one seems to know.

Explain what does your god mean,
how he differs from things not seen?
Can you produce one bit of evidence
beyond that of mere pretense?

Quoting scriptures won’t change my mind.
No proof of god in these I find.
I do not trust in your anecdotes
and neither in your stories, quotes.

All this religious business
stands in a way of progress.
All faith is out of season,
beyond all thought and reason.

Hence, my friends, it is now clear,
All this to me seems very queer.
Let children play with their gods
but to me it makes no odds.

*Painting – “John Brown reading his Bible”, by Horace Pippin, 1942.

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I am proud to be an atheist

sacred-heart

I am proud to be an atheist.
Faith, religion I resist.
No gods can sway me in their lanes.
I am free. I’ve lost my chains.

I am proud to be an atheist.
Gods and deities I never missed.
My time I spend on other things,
whatever my tomorrow brings.

I am proud to be an atheist.
The feet of Christ I never kissed.
My mouth will never touch this dirt
that has left so many hurt.

I am proud to be an atheist.
But in what does my faith consist?
Let me answer you this way:
the time of faith has passed away.

I am proud to be an atheist.
I hope to dissipate all godly mist.
Will you help and lend your hand,
together we can clean this land.

I am proud to be an atheist.
At all the gods I’ll shake my fist.
Fear not their empty futile threats,
for deity always fails, forgets.

I am proud to be an atheist.
For gods do not exist.
Of this I am sure and certain
that no one lurks behind the curtain.

I am proud to be an atheist.
From my life gods are dismissed.
Please do not pray for my poor soul,
for I am happy as a whole.

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In his heart the fool will say

the-fool-1904-1 (1)

In his heart the fool will say:
There is a heaven and a god.
Instead of learning he will pray,
meditate and cry aloud.

These filthy little believing beasts
who spread their poison in our midst.
All you prophets, preachers, priests:
You have no right to live, exist.

All you mystics, seekers, saints
who corrupt the youthful minds.
What evils, crimes and moral taints,
in your presence one often finds.

You call your Lord in times of trouble
and you beg for his saving grace.
You’ve been living in one big bubble
shielded from your own true face.

You say that you enjoy god’s bliss
and that you have felt his touch.
What kind of nonsense is this?
Your pretty words do not mean much.

You think that God is by your side
and watches over your every move.
You hold this fancy for your guide
but all this you cannot prove.

You claim that God is beyond reason
and yet your mind is never still.
Beliefs and dogmas are your prison
that you have built at your own will.

*Painting – “The Fool” by Pablo Picasso, 1904.

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