Poetry competition CLOSED 18th June 2024 00:36am
WINNER
Indie (Miss Indie)
Indie (Miss Indie)
RUNNERS-UP:
Betty
and Grace
Dead Gods
Poetry Contest Description
Compose a poem listening to a specific track of music
A belief is an acceptance of a statement as truth or that something exists. Many consider their beliefs as God or sourced from a God.
I'd love to read a personal poem about a previous belief you held that was influenced by your environment: the surroundings or conditions in which you were raised or currently live.
The point of the competition is to outline what belief was killed and how. This belief can be religious, philosophical, educational, or an experience. How it was killed could be through education, experience, or even a deep epiphany or knowing through feeling.
I am a score junkie and classical music so would ask you to listen to this composition while considering your belief OR even composing your entry.
Soundtrack: https://youtu.be/_egA9RZrD5k?si=rRTCDYkdkmuXclmg
* Guidelines *
• One poem per poet
• No images
• Vid recordings accepted
• No erotica; however, it can be sexually related. Yes, there is a difference. For example: Maybe you once believed sex out of marriage was wrong but now believe it's not, etc. When describing what killed that belief, especially if it was *experience*, I don't need the *physical* details of that experience ( which would cross over into erotica and disqualify your entry ). I am merely after the *essence* of what killed your former belief.
• All forms accepted; however, I would request that if submitting prose that you not submit a novel.
• No comments or critiques. Visit the poet's personal page for that.
As per all my comps, I will be judging this personally. Best of luck to each entrant.
Related submission no longer exists.
Wishflowers
My father was a lawn manicurist
as his father before
it had to be perfectly filed—
all four corners
He would spend hours
yanking weeds by their root
each Saturday morning
He’d say, ‘They destroy
the grass if you let’m grow’
I would smile and nod
because he was the wisest
person I knew
But I loved the dandelion—
that lone survivor
bravely popping its head up
I never failed to dismember its seeds
with the zephyr of my breath
And clover
those tiny white or red petals
—clenched as a ranunculus bud—
promising four-leaves of luck
Yet a yard full was unkempt
—an instilled belief
emerging a fully formed god
from its chrysalis of growth
For many years it bothered me
whenever an ocean of weeds
flooded my lawn
But it was my grandson
in his five-year-old innocence
who altered my belief
It’s etched in my memory
that Monday we arrived home
and the yardman hadn't come
He squealed and pointed
as though Christmas morning
“Look! Nana! Wishflowers!
EVERYWHERE!”
We became North winds
that afternoon
executioners of gloom
and hopelessness
amid a rapture of seeds
rising as departing spirits
Now my lawn is scarcely mowed
the yardman’s blade on high
so as not to disturb the clover
for the bumblebees
As far as dandelions go
they’re long gone before he ever arrives
by the belief
of my grandson's breath
Now fourteen
he picks them
after school
promising he’ll tell me
when his wish comes true
He has no room for doubt
and I know it will come to pass
because mine did too. . .
We pilfer the clover
for four leaves of luck
he says, 'Nana. . .
you're the wisest person I know'
I smile and think of my father
weeding the yard
when I was a little girl
and I've learned
even the wisest person we know
can be wrong
about what god is right for us
sometimes, we must allow
the old gods to die
to make room for the new
to emerge fully formed
from their chrysalis of growth
as his father before
it had to be perfectly filed—
all four corners
He would spend hours
yanking weeds by their root
each Saturday morning
He’d say, ‘They destroy
the grass if you let’m grow’
I would smile and nod
because he was the wisest
person I knew
But I loved the dandelion—
that lone survivor
bravely popping its head up
I never failed to dismember its seeds
with the zephyr of my breath
And clover
those tiny white or red petals
—clenched as a ranunculus bud—
promising four-leaves of luck
Yet a yard full was unkempt
—an instilled belief
emerging a fully formed god
from its chrysalis of growth
For many years it bothered me
whenever an ocean of weeds
flooded my lawn
But it was my grandson
in his five-year-old innocence
who altered my belief
It’s etched in my memory
that Monday we arrived home
and the yardman hadn't come
He squealed and pointed
as though Christmas morning
“Look! Nana! Wishflowers!
EVERYWHERE!”
We became North winds
that afternoon
executioners of gloom
and hopelessness
amid a rapture of seeds
rising as departing spirits
Now my lawn is scarcely mowed
the yardman’s blade on high
so as not to disturb the clover
for the bumblebees
As far as dandelions go
they’re long gone before he ever arrives
by the belief
of my grandson's breath
Now fourteen
he picks them
after school
promising he’ll tell me
when his wish comes true
He has no room for doubt
and I know it will come to pass
because mine did too. . .
We pilfer the clover
for four leaves of luck
he says, 'Nana. . .
you're the wisest person I know'
I smile and think of my father
weeding the yard
when I was a little girl
and I've learned
even the wisest person we know
can be wrong
about what god is right for us
sometimes, we must allow
the old gods to die
to make room for the new
to emerge fully formed
from their chrysalis of growth
Written by Ahavati
(Tams)
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This is not an entry but example.
They sure Schooled me
Twas at the Carr academy
all stately dressed in stone,
cupola's gleamed on the roofs bright sheen
my tale began alone.
The click and gleam on parquet floor
brass shines and polish scent,
the O so high of varnished door
but the teachers all hell bent.
The head she was a kindly soul
she took me on her knee,
to show her alter mater role
but her staff shewed disdain of me.
Disdainful of me needs you know
too aloof to teach,
each disdainful act a blow
destroyed a child's belief.
Destroyed a belief in teachers
destroyed belief in self,
at four and a half these traitors
instilled bad mental health.
Well, I'm older now, grown evil,
like they I'm heading for hell,
but I'll volunteer to be a divil
to poke to hear them yell!
all stately dressed in stone,
cupola's gleamed on the roofs bright sheen
my tale began alone.
The click and gleam on parquet floor
brass shines and polish scent,
the O so high of varnished door
but the teachers all hell bent.
The head she was a kindly soul
she took me on her knee,
to show her alter mater role
but her staff shewed disdain of me.
Disdainful of me needs you know
too aloof to teach,
each disdainful act a blow
destroyed a child's belief.
Destroyed a belief in teachers
destroyed belief in self,
at four and a half these traitors
instilled bad mental health.
Well, I'm older now, grown evil,
like they I'm heading for hell,
but I'll volunteer to be a divil
to poke to hear them yell!
Written by Rew
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In Search for Divine Favour
Dear Diary,
Today, I find myself questioning the beliefs I once held dear. I used to think that being good was all that mattered, that it would bring me divine favor. But now, I see no reward for my goodness. My friendships have crumbled, and my kindness, it seems, has only been used against me.
Growing up, I was always told, "You have no mother or father here, consider them to be your books." So, I studied hard, day and night, believing that prosperity would follow. But now, I ask, where is that job that would provide for my family, that would put food on our table?
They said, "Abstain till marriage, and you will have a happy marriage." But Venus, do you not see me? Am I unworthy? Where is the loving husband who doesn't abandon his ailing children, who doesn't squander the little money we have?
Which god do I cry out to now? The one for prosperity, love, and health? Which one? Did I not live by their rules? They all seem like dead gods in my life now.
Yours,
An anguishing mother, wife, and friend
Today, I find myself questioning the beliefs I once held dear. I used to think that being good was all that mattered, that it would bring me divine favor. But now, I see no reward for my goodness. My friendships have crumbled, and my kindness, it seems, has only been used against me.
Growing up, I was always told, "You have no mother or father here, consider them to be your books." So, I studied hard, day and night, believing that prosperity would follow. But now, I ask, where is that job that would provide for my family, that would put food on our table?
They said, "Abstain till marriage, and you will have a happy marriage." But Venus, do you not see me? Am I unworthy? Where is the loving husband who doesn't abandon his ailing children, who doesn't squander the little money we have?
Which god do I cry out to now? The one for prosperity, love, and health? Which one? Did I not live by their rules? They all seem like dead gods in my life now.
Yours,
An anguishing mother, wife, and friend
Written by BurntCanary
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Heavens to Expensive That's Why I'm Refinancing in Hell
"Talk with it, walk with it-if not done right just forget it
Church folks will look at you like you just shitted,
"Treating you like a sinful hated ex lova
Because you couldn't follow rules to bend knee to a strict motherfucka,
"Praising and singing for eternity-for what it's worth
I've done enough of that fuck shit while here on Earth,
"Man fucked that up when trying to change the rule
Now Heaven is hard to achieve for the average fool,
"Thou shall not work on the Sabbath day
Understand I have child support and bills to motherfuckin pay,
"God put us on this Earth under a cancerous ass sun
With restrictions to happiness or someone trying to cum,
"I like getting my dick suck under the early morning light
Then giving the pussy a dose of pre-cuming act right,
"Thanks, is always given before and after the nut
What the hell he upset for, he was the one who created the fuck,
"If he didn't know his boy-pussy chasing priest does
From getting their dicks covered in shit and blood,
"And if she doesn't want Nun-she gonna get some
Many by intimidation or rape just to have bragging rights virgin fun,
"And the motherfuckin nerve to put me in that category
Here is my middle finger to all your eternal glory,
"At least in hell I know shit is fucked up from the get go
Now I'm wrong for not wanting to be an angelic glorified ho',
"If a motherfucka don't like-lick my blasphemous nuts
Because I gives no eternal golden city fucks,
"You can call it CS being ignorant, stupid or goddamn dumb
Naw motherfuckas-like Pink Floyd I'm comfortably numb".
Devil "Ok CS. It seems all paperwork is in order. All I need is your final signature".
CS "I just had a pen. It seems the motherfucka disappeared on me".
Devil "Mmmm. Unprepared I see. Don't worry just use blood. Here, you can use my personal cursed blade. Just slice your flesh right there".
CS "Damn I didn't feel a thing and it's self-healing".
Devil "Be patient the pain will come later".
CS "Alright. Anything else that needs to be done?"
Devil "Yes I need to hold onto one more thing until your permanent arrival".
CS "You doing too goddamn much? At least Jesse James used a gun when he robbed a motherfucka".
Devil "Yes, but I I'm not robbing what is freely given".
CS "What's that?"
Devil "Your soul".
CS "Motherfucka please. You ain't getting shit but pennies on the dollar".
Church folks will look at you like you just shitted,
"Treating you like a sinful hated ex lova
Because you couldn't follow rules to bend knee to a strict motherfucka,
"Praising and singing for eternity-for what it's worth
I've done enough of that fuck shit while here on Earth,
"Man fucked that up when trying to change the rule
Now Heaven is hard to achieve for the average fool,
"Thou shall not work on the Sabbath day
Understand I have child support and bills to motherfuckin pay,
"God put us on this Earth under a cancerous ass sun
With restrictions to happiness or someone trying to cum,
"I like getting my dick suck under the early morning light
Then giving the pussy a dose of pre-cuming act right,
"Thanks, is always given before and after the nut
What the hell he upset for, he was the one who created the fuck,
"If he didn't know his boy-pussy chasing priest does
From getting their dicks covered in shit and blood,
"And if she doesn't want Nun-she gonna get some
Many by intimidation or rape just to have bragging rights virgin fun,
"And the motherfuckin nerve to put me in that category
Here is my middle finger to all your eternal glory,
"At least in hell I know shit is fucked up from the get go
Now I'm wrong for not wanting to be an angelic glorified ho',
"If a motherfucka don't like-lick my blasphemous nuts
Because I gives no eternal golden city fucks,
"You can call it CS being ignorant, stupid or goddamn dumb
Naw motherfuckas-like Pink Floyd I'm comfortably numb".
Devil "Ok CS. It seems all paperwork is in order. All I need is your final signature".
CS "I just had a pen. It seems the motherfucka disappeared on me".
Devil "Mmmm. Unprepared I see. Don't worry just use blood. Here, you can use my personal cursed blade. Just slice your flesh right there".
CS "Damn I didn't feel a thing and it's self-healing".
Devil "Be patient the pain will come later".
CS "Alright. Anything else that needs to be done?"
Devil "Yes I need to hold onto one more thing until your permanent arrival".
CS "You doing too goddamn much? At least Jesse James used a gun when he robbed a motherfucka".
Devil "Yes, but I I'm not robbing what is freely given".
CS "What's that?"
Devil "Your soul".
CS "Motherfucka please. You ain't getting shit but pennies on the dollar".
Written by CasketSharpe
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Pork-Adjacent (Piggin' on a Sunday Afternoon)
He opens and closes his hammy fist with a revolting inelegance
-a vain attempt to scratch his brow with a sausage-like pinkie.
Sinking lower into his seat, his amorphous form spills over the armrest and onto my
forearm-
"Lady She Sure", he fumbles to utter, leaning over
to his wife before returning to rest
—expressionless
The curtain rises on a cohort of young Chinese women in undulating silk finery,
Flapping feathered fans in synchronization with the meticulous grace of
Ten Thousand Hours spent,
the color of spring's first marigold.
Before the resplendence of their restrained, poetic movement
has a chance to settle, billowing and cascading onto the orchestra in the pit
and the audience below–
I make out his beady eyes, blind to this.
Flitting about in the dim theater–
As if to
defile
pick apart
and ravage all at once before—
The performance is over.
He nods off as the applause dies,
Grotesque,
Satiated.
And I-
am in reprieve, for now.
-a vain attempt to scratch his brow with a sausage-like pinkie.
Sinking lower into his seat, his amorphous form spills over the armrest and onto my
forearm-
"Lady She Sure", he fumbles to utter, leaning over
to his wife before returning to rest
—expressionless
The curtain rises on a cohort of young Chinese women in undulating silk finery,
Flapping feathered fans in synchronization with the meticulous grace of
Ten Thousand Hours spent,
the color of spring's first marigold.
Before the resplendence of their restrained, poetic movement
has a chance to settle, billowing and cascading onto the orchestra in the pit
and the audience below–
I make out his beady eyes, blind to this.
Flitting about in the dim theater–
As if to
defile
pick apart
and ravage all at once before—
The performance is over.
He nods off as the applause dies,
Grotesque,
Satiated.
And I-
am in reprieve, for now.
Written by Alois_inwriting02
(Alois Cyprien d Bayeux)
Go To Page
please don't be gay (for the Dead Gods comp)
Twenty years old
belly full with child
the prodigal daughter comes home
and my mother takes my hand
drags me back to that hall
and those hard seats
where hypocrites smile
How easily they forgot
the curses that rolled
off god-fearing tongues
when at 16 my boyfriend
outed me
the bisexual girl who
wasn't down for a threesome
and I wandered round
the halls of my school
feeling like the devil had cursed me
personally
Nevermind that my boyfriend
raped me
or that I miscarried
or that a month later
he knocked up the girl
who was meant to be
my best friend
Nevermind my favourite pastor
who told me to just not sin
was cheating on his wife
after she was diagnosed with MS
Nevermind that I carried
Hell in my heart
and dreamed about
opening my veins
when my mother told me
"it happens"
when I found the courage
to speak out about
every wrong someone else
placed in my hands
and told me was my fault
And I'm not sure
I'll ever really know
what sent me back
to that house of lies
maybe it was loneliness
or desperation
or sobriety overcompensating
but I never found God there again
though I still believed
I was destined for Hell
because I was a woman
who loved women
and had the history
of a woman
still lingering on my lips
According to the Word of Men
there would be no place
in Heaven
for a sinner like me
And even at 20
belly full with child
I couldn't fully lie to myself
about who I was
though fuck I tried
to be anything but gay
belly full with child
the prodigal daughter comes home
and my mother takes my hand
drags me back to that hall
and those hard seats
where hypocrites smile
How easily they forgot
the curses that rolled
off god-fearing tongues
when at 16 my boyfriend
outed me
the bisexual girl who
wasn't down for a threesome
and I wandered round
the halls of my school
feeling like the devil had cursed me
personally
Nevermind that my boyfriend
raped me
or that I miscarried
or that a month later
he knocked up the girl
who was meant to be
my best friend
Nevermind my favourite pastor
who told me to just not sin
was cheating on his wife
after she was diagnosed with MS
Nevermind that I carried
Hell in my heart
and dreamed about
opening my veins
when my mother told me
"it happens"
when I found the courage
to speak out about
every wrong someone else
placed in my hands
and told me was my fault
And I'm not sure
I'll ever really know
what sent me back
to that house of lies
maybe it was loneliness
or desperation
or sobriety overcompensating
but I never found God there again
though I still believed
I was destined for Hell
because I was a woman
who loved women
and had the history
of a woman
still lingering on my lips
According to the Word of Men
there would be no place
in Heaven
for a sinner like me
And even at 20
belly full with child
I couldn't fully lie to myself
about who I was
though fuck I tried
to be anything but gay
Written by Indie
(Miss Indie)
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Kinorohingan (Ancient God)
depth of seven folds beneath
ruler of the skies
lord of the deepest realm
Ancient God of spewing fire
that rumbles through the earth
arise, from thy ashes
of death,
hear the lamentations
of the shamans
the elders that call
for thy resurrection
remember thee the glory
of thy people, warriors
in their own right as man
hunters and seafarers
remember thy might
God of all that's living
arise thou, ancient Master
remember thy sacrifice
thine daughter a virgin
she hath spilled her blood
in her mighty power
gift of thine, she furrowed the land
with teeth as maize
her flesh as rice
her limbs as yams
her eyes as leeks
her hair as reeds
her head as palms
Remember thee
the lamentations of thy consort
Suminundu the magical one
hath called upon winds
waves and floods
but thou hath protected us
From the fields
the meadows, the forests
the essence of thine own
Princess Huminodun
transformed soothed the storm
bringing the people together
in peace and harmony
with the great Mother
that birth even thee,
of Soil that nurture
thou hath slumbered within
this dark earthy domain
arise
The Shamanic incantations
they echo and resound
throughout the land
art thou no more
hath thou bequeath
thy throne
to gods from beyond...
ruler of the skies
lord of the deepest realm
Ancient God of spewing fire
that rumbles through the earth
arise, from thy ashes
of death,
hear the lamentations
of the shamans
the elders that call
for thy resurrection
remember thee the glory
of thy people, warriors
in their own right as man
hunters and seafarers
remember thy might
God of all that's living
arise thou, ancient Master
remember thy sacrifice
thine daughter a virgin
she hath spilled her blood
in her mighty power
gift of thine, she furrowed the land
with teeth as maize
her flesh as rice
her limbs as yams
her eyes as leeks
her hair as reeds
her head as palms
Remember thee
the lamentations of thy consort
Suminundu the magical one
hath called upon winds
waves and floods
but thou hath protected us
From the fields
the meadows, the forests
the essence of thine own
Princess Huminodun
transformed soothed the storm
bringing the people together
in peace and harmony
with the great Mother
that birth even thee,
of Soil that nurture
thou hath slumbered within
this dark earthy domain
arise
The Shamanic incantations
they echo and resound
throughout the land
art thou no more
hath thou bequeath
thy throne
to gods from beyond...
Written by Grace
(IDryad)
Go To Page
What is sin doing among you?
If you belief what is sin doing among you?
you carry cruelty within your hearts
you carry hatred in your breathe.
yet you say you belief,
what sort of belief is this?
when sin lives among you?
how many must die in the name of your god?
how many must suffer under the tyranny of the cloth?
How many cries must echo in hallowed halls?
How many prayers must falter,
how many tears must fall?
Yet you claim to believe,
What is sin doing among you?
with conviction so hollow,
When sin casts its shadow and sorrow follows.
You speak of salvation, of a paradise to gain,
But what of the present marred by pain?
What sort of belief is measured by gain?
What sort of belief lets compassion wane?
When sin lives among you, a blemish, a stain?
The divine may be merciful,
the divine may be just,
But what of your actions?
In whom do you trust?
When belief is a weapon
faith is a must.
Your wisdom is blind,
Your cleverness hard and unkind.
If you say you belief
What is sin doing among you?
you carry cruelty within your hearts
you carry hatred in your breathe.
yet you say you belief,
what sort of belief is this?
when sin lives among you?
how many must die in the name of your god?
how many must suffer under the tyranny of the cloth?
How many cries must echo in hallowed halls?
How many prayers must falter,
how many tears must fall?
Yet you claim to believe,
What is sin doing among you?
with conviction so hollow,
When sin casts its shadow and sorrow follows.
You speak of salvation, of a paradise to gain,
But what of the present marred by pain?
What sort of belief is measured by gain?
What sort of belief lets compassion wane?
When sin lives among you, a blemish, a stain?
The divine may be merciful,
the divine may be just,
But what of your actions?
In whom do you trust?
When belief is a weapon
faith is a must.
Your wisdom is blind,
Your cleverness hard and unkind.
If you say you belief
What is sin doing among you?
Written by poetOftragedy
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Thank you each for entering. When awarding this, I went by the emotional impact in conjunction with the prompt. Congratulations to the winners and to everyone who entered.
Betty: Yours was the epitome of a death in belief, especially through that old cliche that everything happens for a reason. The mention of no pubic hair and orphan details how young and alone you were, and the death amplified the atmosphere of grief you already felt compounded with the pain of betrayal. My heart just broke for you when I read it. Thank you for being so vulnerable and sharing with us.
Rew: Yours was so very relatable and I have read countless stories of those forced into schools such as that. The Native Americans have stories that will curl your hair. Your rhyme was well done and the piece as a whole flowed.
BurntCanary: Yours was a very touching format that takes every woman back to their first diary, be that an actual diary or a notebook. This choice of format demonstrates a presence of childlike innocence and search for the meaning amid the chaos that is life. I enjoyed reading it very much.
CasketSharpe: I heard this as a slam piece when I was reading it. You posed valid questions and the "cancerous sun" hit home. I've heard many things, but that was something that stopped me in my tracks reading it. It was a very passionate write. Thank you for entering.
Alois_inwriting02: I'm still acclimating to your style, as I've previously stated on one of your recent submissions. It's fresh and unique. The disgusted disappointment in the unappreciative viewer was palpable and the imagery truly painted the scene. Thank you for entering.
Indie : God the emotional impact this had on me was riveting. So much pain and suffering and betrayal at such a young age. I worked with young people at our local PFLAG chapter a few years back and would shoot their productions for free when I was a professional photographer. Their stories would break my heart at the weight they carried, unsuccessful at unloading the shame and guilt others piled upon them as you have described.
Then to throw on top of that rape and betrayal of the boy you most likely thought you loved at that age coupled with a best friend. The "best friend" is the WORST.
I used to not get it. Love is Love regardless - and no one chooses who they love - the heart wants what it wants. And for that they're condemned to a life of hell for not living their truth and a life of ridicule and judgment if they do. But now I do - those who condemn Love aren't yet familiar with the true definition of it.
You and Betty floored me with the vulnerability of your entries.
Drone: I love the realization in your entry. Thoughts become things and we create our own reality through manifesting actions. I enjoyed it very much. Thank you for entering.
APissPoorShaman: I enjoyed the metaphysical nature of your observations and the inference that we are all dying gods. It was very unique. I particularly enjoyed your format, which has the eyes going in different directions while reading, reflecting the first line of chaos. I enjoyed reading it. Thank you for entering.
Grace: The indigenous nature of yours captured me immediately. So many cultures and their practices have been lost to missionaries in the name of "civilized progress". That this was an evocation to the past made it more powerful than just an observation. You became the participant and the experience was palpable. Thank you for entering.
poetOftragedy: You hit the nail on the head with your questions of those professing to be "religious", but their actions lacked proof. It's an age-old question that many have asked before us, and I have no doubt that many will ask after us. It is my dream that my grandson ask me one day, "Nana, what is religion?" Thank you for entering, I truly enjoyed it.
Betty: Yours was the epitome of a death in belief, especially through that old cliche that everything happens for a reason. The mention of no pubic hair and orphan details how young and alone you were, and the death amplified the atmosphere of grief you already felt compounded with the pain of betrayal. My heart just broke for you when I read it. Thank you for being so vulnerable and sharing with us.
Rew: Yours was so very relatable and I have read countless stories of those forced into schools such as that. The Native Americans have stories that will curl your hair. Your rhyme was well done and the piece as a whole flowed.
BurntCanary: Yours was a very touching format that takes every woman back to their first diary, be that an actual diary or a notebook. This choice of format demonstrates a presence of childlike innocence and search for the meaning amid the chaos that is life. I enjoyed reading it very much.
CasketSharpe: I heard this as a slam piece when I was reading it. You posed valid questions and the "cancerous sun" hit home. I've heard many things, but that was something that stopped me in my tracks reading it. It was a very passionate write. Thank you for entering.
Alois_inwriting02: I'm still acclimating to your style, as I've previously stated on one of your recent submissions. It's fresh and unique. The disgusted disappointment in the unappreciative viewer was palpable and the imagery truly painted the scene. Thank you for entering.
Indie : God the emotional impact this had on me was riveting. So much pain and suffering and betrayal at such a young age. I worked with young people at our local PFLAG chapter a few years back and would shoot their productions for free when I was a professional photographer. Their stories would break my heart at the weight they carried, unsuccessful at unloading the shame and guilt others piled upon them as you have described.
Then to throw on top of that rape and betrayal of the boy you most likely thought you loved at that age coupled with a best friend. The "best friend" is the WORST.
I used to not get it. Love is Love regardless - and no one chooses who they love - the heart wants what it wants. And for that they're condemned to a life of hell for not living their truth and a life of ridicule and judgment if they do. But now I do - those who condemn Love aren't yet familiar with the true definition of it.
You and Betty floored me with the vulnerability of your entries.
Drone: I love the realization in your entry. Thoughts become things and we create our own reality through manifesting actions. I enjoyed it very much. Thank you for entering.
APissPoorShaman: I enjoyed the metaphysical nature of your observations and the inference that we are all dying gods. It was very unique. I particularly enjoyed your format, which has the eyes going in different directions while reading, reflecting the first line of chaos. I enjoyed reading it. Thank you for entering.
Grace: The indigenous nature of yours captured me immediately. So many cultures and their practices have been lost to missionaries in the name of "civilized progress". That this was an evocation to the past made it more powerful than just an observation. You became the participant and the experience was palpable. Thank you for entering.
poetOftragedy: You hit the nail on the head with your questions of those professing to be "religious", but their actions lacked proof. It's an age-old question that many have asked before us, and I have no doubt that many will ask after us. It is my dream that my grandson ask me one day, "Nana, what is religion?" Thank you for entering, I truly enjoyed it.
