WHATS YOUR RELIGION?

4 TO EUSEBIA

No one knows anything about you,
But you saved Julian,
When Constantius had repressed emotions,
And he would like to have eaten him alive.

Were you playing Constantius game?
I have serious doubts,
And how much vinegar did you drink in your life,
In order to keep up with his steadfastness?

You are protecting an "idolater",
You send him away to Athens for studies,
Maybe secretly you believe to the same things,
And not to the farts of the theologians.

The lad was saved by a hair,
In the hatred of your wimp of a husband,
And we owe you one more favor,
That you never became pregnant.

You also must have wanted a pregnancy,
Since you were a woman to became a mother,
But you had enough intelligence:
Who would be the relatives of your offspring?

Unfucked or badly fucked,
Which is the worse, I wonder,
You were not at all in love,
I only depict my own surmise.

Just imagine if that animal had a successor,
One more Flavius in this world,
As an abortion of the "living dangerously",
Perpetuation of the killer species.

5 JULIAN

This world that belonged to no one,
And its contact is for ever lost,
Was inherited by Julian,
By means of his wisdom, but also of his sword.

In Paris the army raised him as an emperor,
And immediately Constantius moved against him,
But he died on the way and in the end he did not deny,
Succession of kinship that he did not manage to extinguish.

Human values and Hellenism came back,
He gives initiatives and local government,
He did not care to take revenge from the reptiles,
Greece, Logic and Ancient Light celebrated.

He fended for everything, he reinstated education,
By re-establishing temples, academies and institutions,
He spoiled their racket by dissolving their darkness,
And every wrong doing of his predecessors he corrected.

Refrain
The Galilees will not be teaching anymore,
Homer and other ancient writers,
In their teaching they contradict themselves,
Been fanatical and half learnt.

In vain this wise man tried with logic,
To show deity to the Christians under a different light,
Humanity had degenerated much before his time,
And thus their necrolatry was slowly stabilized.

Five-six months were enough for him to do more,
Than all the other Flavii in their six decades,
His was the last amongst so many of their campaigns,
It was for him fatal, and for us still worse.

Personally, I believe in what Libanius writes:
The Christians killed him in his carelessness,
Afterwards they slandered him and hid his value,
Because he was a Hellenist and rare amongst the kings.

A malicious posthumous fame was formulated,
An invention of the reptiles, ascribed to him,
But in his dying moment he was still dreaming of Greece,
"You have won, Galilean", such a phrase was never said.

6 Long Refrain
This world that was so full of light,
And its wisdom is now silenced,
Was darkened by every Christian,
From Basil, and before him from Origenis,
Was defamed by Gregory of Nazianzus,
And in general was blinded by John the Chrysostom.

This world that was so enlightened,
Was explained to us differently by these "luminaries",
So that every Christian may consider him as his own,
And the Heathens should only be second class citizens,
It was bathed in blood by every fanaticism,
And the Flavii were leading history as juggernauts,
What could one single Julian do,
Faced with so many greedy, ignorant suitors?

A schizophrenic Hellenism-Christianity,
A marriage only for orphans and widows,
And a doubtful Neo-Platonism,
When you think what you lost or what you gained,
Which is taken always as a shield by every idealism,
When historical tides are swelling.

EPILOGUE

This is our very own history-schizophrenia,
And still we are seeking our lost identity,
Ancient, Medieval, and contemporary entity,
Which if taken as a total constitute an incurable disease.

This is our very own, outstanding amongst all schizophrenias,
New Rome's treacherous and dreary outset,
You can send it to your friends by email as a tiding,
The Flavii: What can we say? What a fucking family!

NOTES
Tsifteteli = Belly dance in Turkish style.
Necrolatry, Necrolatre = death worship, worshiper.
Isapostle = Equal to the apostles (in holiness, I suppose, but better ask a theologian).
Edict of Milan = 312 AD, Proclaiming Religious Tolerance and Equality throughout the Roman Empire, but in effect destroying and        forbidding all other religions except Christianity.

Yeshua


The mallet struck spikes,
iron,
driven through wrists, ankles,
between tendons,
bone;
Readied for lifting--
Up!  Up!
Upright
impaled,
a live portrait on a tree
that must push up by the legs
to catch a breath--
for it is not the crucifixion that kills,
but the suffocation of being hung.

The Roman soldiers broke the legs
to hasten death--
one can't push with shattered bones.

What other god
has allowed his own Creation to murder him,
save the One who's love surpasses all,
that He might take our place in death?

Abba, Father, it is done;
I kneel before thee,
my yoke, not so heavy anymore.

Hornyat......A great epos,uniquely created....thank you for joining

Madamlavender,thank you for a great entry

http://hd.wallpaperswide.com/thumbs/open_book_2-t2.jpg

For My Friend, Poetry

Nothing else has ever made sense
like you. You are there when
my hands softly shake because
I am alone with myself and do not
like that place.

Remember Edna, the things she spoke of?
Such mystical things, visions of spring,
pastel flowers renascent on the page.
Blue-bearded pirates. I was only eleven
and did not comprehend. But the very
words, rhythm cast a spell on my young,
fevered brain. My hungry mind
recognized the cold fingers of
desire and lost love, a sense of
alienation from others.

Thomas, I was fourteen when
he came to me. So Britishly handsome,
the very rhythm of his verse the uncanny
echo of my own enervate sadness and
emptiness. I wept over his words
of fog and cats and women talking
of Michelangelo because they were
achingly human.

At sixteen I met Sylvia, her large mournful
eyes that held a wariness and resigned pain
that never met her smile. That’s when
they started taking me to the doctor
because I couldn’t get up off the couch.
Couldn’t bathe for days or brush my teeth.

And like so many others
who have sought comfort, escape,
and beauty through you, some
irresistible essence of immortality lingers.

For you are my life's addiction and meaning,
the true mirror of my soul's clarity. You are
my sanity, my telephone to God,
the map of my passion within,
too great for my body to contain.
It must find its release somewhere.
You are that location.

Toni,great to see your entry
thank you for paeticipating

UNIVERSAL LIGHT


i am neither the creator
or the destroyer.
I am you , i am the light,
what does it matter,
if you mock me or ridicule me,
for i always have and will always be.

i promise nothing,
no bloody holy land,
or murderous calliphate,
and now we weep for man and his frailities, the sirens scream,
but they do not kill for me.

my only purpose is to exist.
i am your lover’s grasp,
and the smile in a new mother’s eyes
the pleasure in laughter
and the tears upon a gravestone.

i am your empathy,
i am your kindness.
i am the dollar you give to a stranger.
i am the light
I am you.

Great entry,staggerlee...thank you

Confession

Cryptic words muttered through
Pursed lips
That only part to receive
His flesh and blood.
Knees bang in unison
On concrete floors
As heads bow coyly
To please His gaze.
The smell of incense is dizzying,
A makeshift breach
Into the realm above
While waiting for salvation to come.
Ascension attempted through the voices of choirs…
They seem to
Bounce off the stained glass,
Back onto the stack of
Lowered skulls.
They’re missing the best part:
A masquerade veiled by
Deep red curtains,
A slow moving dance for the chosen,
The Father and His devoted sons.
The guest list is all but permissive.
The sway of curved hips is unwelcome.
The curl of full lips is forbidden.

A good guest knows
When their hosts
Grow tired of their stay.

Forgive me, Father, for I have not sinned,
But my fists were worn down from
Banging at locked doors,
Till I noticed the knocks
Rang hollow.
My tongue grew tired of
Twisting to tales of so called grace
That left a nasty aftertaste.
My mind grew numb from
Seeking loopholes
In a tightly woven contract
Meant to save me from myself.
Does your Book resent liberation?
Is it sin to reclaim one’s own free will?
Then your words shall be banned from my pages,
My ink will flow freely
Till it breaks the dams
That cage it;
My words will be molded
By nothing but truth
Without fear
Of its constant whims.
I will shape my own world from scratch,
For only I can make my way
Through the maze that is my path,
And I relish the thought of
Its constant dead ends;
There is no fun in unswerving roads.
I will make my life my own.
But above all,
I will forgive you, Father,
For I have not sinned.

Thank you for your great poem,ealatair

As the Above

The light of a thousand lamps are one
The dewdrop contains the whole of the sun
The sum is reflected in all of it's parts
The fire is kindled in all of it's sparks
As the above
So the below
Connected through love
In love we all grow
And thus do we know
That the one is the all
And it's love that will free us from every flaw

http://i1317.photobucket.com/albums/t623/curlycue23/SinBoldlyLagerLabel-ov_zps07a6f910.png


                       Loontheran

I’m a lefse eating wishy washy looney Lutheran from Wisconsin who’s going to ‘straight to Hell’ so the Baptist tell for ordaining girls and saying okay to gay that worships a loving God not one that hates most everyone in the human race and for valuing humility far more than celibacy as we’re known to like beer and sex with no regrets I guess you could call us horny Catholics without a Vatican to scold our shenanigans now it’s time for me to stop rambling cause I’m beginning to be running out of things to say…
                 

Thanks for joining in on the comp, Snuglebuck,and Raven, great entries...

Muerte

My spiritual journey was
more a permanent vacation
a holiday in the next unknown
with infinite faith in my ability to
debunk the theology
philosophically and realistically of course

a song and dance
blessed snacks and yoga
I loved being barefoot as much as anybody

a Buddhist
Hindu
Taoist with Christian influence
Jew with Zen Philosophies
an atheist almost though presently Agnostic


but at the end of every feast
and after another commentary
on "The Vinegar Tasters"
when looking for my shoes near every exit
my glass half full or empty

I was a scientist.
the pragmatic "prove it" type
and church was best for studying the effects
that religion has on mental illness
or its larger influence on social conscience
and anyone who believed in aliens was certain
to need help for something
nothing was credible beyond admitting it was possible
but not yet
or Science would say so.... (yeah...)
a realist

until I died

met God
learned to hate religion
as we wept in unison for the souls
it keeps away

now I wait
for Armageddon and the mother ship
to take me home

watching the truth get buried further
behind colour, flags and skin
under nationalism and revenge

bowing heads and counting beads
shouting questions to the wind and walking
the left and right paths
chanting
mantras singing prayers

making pilgrimages and holy wars
waiting on the one true god
and god is here
being crucified by religion

the takeover continues
in this lucky charm matrix

as humanity fights over who's god is true
living to die and prove
that religion rules

and god is dead

Miki,great scribe,thank you