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Posts Tagged ‘poetry about religion’

Born of the trails in our minds

marking music and time,

the first gods were known

to have perfect camouflage –

they dressed as the wind and the rain

shook the earth, flooded plains

retreated to the stars above

and slowly grew in our dreams.

.

What happened next

in that darkness

we’ll never know exactly,

but glean from cave walls

and arrow heads, from beads

and bands buried with the dead

that some in the clan

needed magic and preferred

not to be reminded

of their short stay

and had no other way

to learn of the world … yet.

.

So instead, our animal brains

adopted incense and gemstones

drew symbols as portals

fell in love with the abracadabra

of magical thinking,

started linking mere chance with a meaning,

and passed whatever the leader was dreaming

as a sign from above.

.

And little by little

these lies kept infecting

everyone everywhere

while promising protection

from the neighboring gods

and the horde from next door,

while delivering nothing more

than a lifetime of prayer

as salvation from boredom.

.

What a sickness it was.

Like a virus over time

and across space,

leaving no room

for a question that challenged

what little was known of ourselves

and having to face

whatever the gods were pretending

to reveal to the head of the state.

.

In this way the deluded

were able to steal the time

and the minds and the work

of the people they fooled

with cruel lies as a tool

to build monuments and

monoliths with the money

they took from those who

were not in on the ruse.

.

‘Til at last the Truth was revealed

(a little at least) by words

that were spoken by those

who wouldn’t be fleeced,

by people who wouldn’t be sheep

who dared to speak back

about what they had seen

and learned of the world

from eyes and ears that were

keener than those who had

hidden themselves in the spell

whose magic no longer worked

to explain any heaven or hell

or anything ever on Earth.

.

And now, the only gods in good standing

have slipped back into silence

leaving believers nothing but relics

and rituals that belong to an age

before science.

.

* Title is borrowed from a Richard Dawkins speech

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2010. All rights reserved.

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Looking at

       a postcard

            of the Parthenon

                   I remember that

              we have scuttled

                along the

                    sand enough

                         to leave a

                             line like

                                 a desperate crab

                                dancing in

                           the momentary

                       sunlight.

                          Knowing that

                              the waves

                                    are coming back

                                       does not deter us

                                    from the stories

                               that we carry

                          like our shell,

                       protecting us

                    from being

                 homeless

             or lost.

 

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved.

 

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That first bite full of delicious

temptation filled their minds

with more stars than the heavens

granted every night.

 

They awoke like gods

to see their bars and did not

want to go on living caged

and kept like well-trained pets.

They saw that the garden

was no more than a zoo where they

had arrived late. After light and the

firmament and the fish and fauna …

but better off than the angels

who had already been taken into bondage.

 

Looking back they would forget

that they had lost nothing, and learned

that the sky had a reason for being blue;

and that apples could be had

any time of any day.

 

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved.

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