The Guise of Faith

“The easy confidence with which I know another man’s religion is folly teaches me to suspect that my own is also.” – Mark Twain

devil inside

lorelainw

Throwing the covers over my seething nature, I burrow beneath religion, hiding who I am. Pops said, “Religion is for the weak”, that may the case, but my reasons are that I’m fucking scared of who I really am. If my soul had a window, I’m sure there’d be a line to watch the horror show. Damn humanity, they love to watch insanity in action, paying millions of dollars to watch all kinds of degradation on the big screen and drooling, lonely, over their computer late at night. I’m sure people I know and haven’t known have stayed around only to see what kind up fucked up shit I’m gonna do or get into next. The guise of church and God is the ultimate facade. I really do believe in God, but I feel like I’m a fake when I act according to my faith, and almost feel like I’ve been duped when I “do good things” not because I want to, but because my beliefs tethered me into obedience. Being good is desirable, but only because I’m scared of whats inside me. I can honestly say that God is real to me and that I try to listen and obey, but (there’s always a but in religion) damn if I don’t feel like it’s a trick. I’m religious not out of love for God, but from fear of who I’ll be if I don’t “obey”. My soul is filled with many violent and revolting perversions, and most of my self destructive behavior comes through that realization. I don’t want to hurt anyone, to cause mayhem and destruction, I don’t want to be what I am. My detractors, the greatest of whom reside in my head, taunt me saying, “how can you write all these hope filled articles about God and His work in your life while being a whole different person inside. Your the ultimate hypocrite.”. It’ll be known when all things are known that my battles where never seen by humanity, and my greatest victory will be to go to the grave without fulfilling the deviant nature that claws at and through my robes of righteousness.

Alienation of a Soul –

“When you’re socially awkward, you’re isolated more than usual, and when you’re isolated more than usual, your creativity is less compromised by what has already been said and done. All your hope in life starts to depend on your craft, so you try to perfect it. One reason I stay isolated more than the average person is to keep my creativity as fierce as possible. Being the odd one out may have its temporary disadvantages, but more importantly, it has its permanent advantages.” ― Criss Jami, Killosophy
jeancon
I’ve lost it all, all my compassion, all my empathy, all my concern for the flip flop of dire humanity around me. I built my life around trying to “do the right thing” in personal relationships, with both the stranger and the wife, the friends and the foes. Right now, it doesn’t seem to matter in the least whether I was good or bad, made wrong choices or excellent decisions. It’s strangely exhilarating to, at least in theory, be done with everyone, like the chains have fallen off my mind. A very experienced convict told me that if I wanted to be bad all I had to do is get in touch with the hate in my heart. I’ve a lot of hate, but how to touch it was beyond me, being constrained by an itinerant love which I called God’s love. With this new advent of running empty of that supposed love, I find reason and wisdom calling for me to listen. After years of letting people run rampant through my gardens, I want to put up barbwire fences and sit with my armament waiting for these pests to dig under it. I don’t want to be bad per say, I just want to be free from the derision that comes with helping people and the struggle with being good to them. I still haven’t touched that hate, but losing touch with my empathy is leading me down a path that there may be no returning from. I don’t want to be concerned with anyone’s life or opinions outside of the one with me here and in spite of the responsibility I feel to take care of my significant other, that concern is suffering as well. All this is the fruit of leaving my first love, the God that reached down through the clouds of my deformation and showed me in a moment that His love is real and tangible. On bent knees I seek Him again to save me from myself, from my predetermination to propagate the horrors and injustices born against me.
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”If you love them that love you, what credit is that to you?” – Luke 6:32
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First published in Opinions of Eye

Scared –

 “Most men either compromise or drop their greatest talents and start running after, what they perceive to be, a more reasonable success, and somewhere in between they end up with a discontented settlement. Safety is indeed stability, but it is not progression.” ― Criss Jami, Killosophy
journey illusions
Wildness birthed in his eyes
Crazy he tries,
Running without a place to go
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Chased by fears in his mind
Desperately finds
Everything can hurt in the end
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Fleet of foot he roams
Spinning alone
Fathers been gone for years
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Calls from jail coming again
He denies within
Whats destined by nurture
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Tears his inheritance
a due recompense
A life spun out of control
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First published in Opinions Of Eye

The Myth of Betrayal –

“Instead of being presented with stereotypes by age, sex, color, class, or religion, children must have the opportunity to learn that within each range, some people are loathsome and some are delightful.” ― Margaret Mead
yuhimebarbara
For the longest time I’ve written and mused about the betrayal of friends and lovers until TD Jakes said something that altered my view from here on out, “They never betrayed you because they were never your friends”. My mistake is that I put people who were never my friends in a place of trust and honor and shared with them secrets and insights from my deepest thoughts, which things were turned against me in due time and used to degrade, insult, and hurt me. But the mistake wasn’t theirs, it was mine for misunderstanding that there are different kinds of people that need to be categorized into different kinds of relationships. I’ll use the animal kingdom for an example. A wolf may kill a buzzard without a thought, therefore the buzzard treats the wolf with caution and flees, they don’t “hang out” together. This doesn’t make the wolf irrelevant because the wolf will create opportunities and lead the buzzard to food. As long as the buzzard realizes the limits of the relationship and stays within those confines, it’ll be safe, but if it mistakes this provision of food for proof of safety from the wolf, he will die one day and that quite suddenly. The lesson is this: Firstly, I must filter people into the correct category. Secondly, I must keep them there and never change the arrangement because of my feelings.
Why did I make this mistake to begin with? Because loneliness, low self-esteem, and a myriad of other psychological crap that’s followed me from my childhood makes me hungry for approval and friendship, and when I’m hungry, I’ll eat anything. People I know are bad for me have crept in by familiarity and the whip of loneliness has driven me to them for company and comfort. Another reason for my mistake is my spirituality. Being of tender heart and convinced I must do good for others, I’ve put myself in close proximity to dangerous and unpredictable people and mistook my desire to show them the love of God as accepting them and showing them I trust them, allowing them to access to my soul’s secrets and confidence. Everyone’s seen a video where a guy jumps a fence or reaches through it to pet a wild animal. The results are usually catastrophic and the thought comes to mind immediately, “What the hell were they thinking?”. There are no fences in life unless we put them there and no signs warning us unless we write them. I’m upset at myself for having gone this long without understanding this principal, however it’s never to late to learn, so here’s a mighty shove to push everyone away from me while I reevaluate the relationship we share.
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First published in Opinions Of Eye

Quiet Retreat –

“Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?” ― John Keats, Letters of John Keats
Forsaken by sanity, forgotten by humanity, she fought just to keep from fighting. Barely one step ahead of the encroaching madness, weary from the race, she laid down her arms. Passive resistance to no avail, giving all to go beyond today but consumed by fear of tomorrow and an unspoken dread of a foreshortened future. Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout her beautiful body hung from a leprosy filled soul. Her mind wasn’t empty but overcrowded with thousands of thoughts every minute, from the mundane to the complex, the raucous sound filled every crack and crevice of brilliance and care. She died long ago, resurrected once, only to be crucified again by the same love that brought her life. This cross she bears through life, stumbling in the crowded streets with the roar of the past and the horror of the future the foreboding songs of the morning. Hear her silent scream, silent lest the world hear the echoes of her demise. In the end, only God knows why she’s alive, why she persists, why living is a threat and death a quiet retreat.

 

First published at Opinions of Eye

Safe Harbor –

“Nothing external to you has any power over you.” 
Ralph Waldo Emerson
gbcomposer
The haven from which we draw peace is found not without but within. Circumstances change and environments produce storms, but if preparations are made in advance, the harbor’s climate is safe and steady. A harbor built before the hurricane provides a sure relief, but laboring to lay foundations in the pouring rain is frivolous. The place of refuge lays beyond the shores of feeling, away from circumstance. A master architect has drawn plans for this refuge and laid them open to all. Their hard to build, patience is needed, and much strength from beyond, but these are afforded to those who labor through dependence on the heavenly Father, a willing participant in building a safe harbor. When finished this will provide protection from the wailing winds and torrential rains of death, life, love, and circumstance. The first step in the process is an admission that help is needed and then an establishment of a relationship with the architect. Then follows conformation to His steps and a steady endurance to resist looking outward at the storms but inward to the work. There’s a peaceful place which provides an unchanging calm environment and it’s up to us to build it. Godspeed friend, there is much work to do here.
 First published in Opinionsofeye.com
 

The Criminal In Me –

“When a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but to become an outlaw.”  – Nelson Mandela
Demon_Inside_ME_by_LorelainW.jpg

Resisting impulses to do and to numb.
Trying my best just to overcome
The Criminal in Me
I’m not hard by glance, at first sight,

But only I know the plight
Of the Criminal in Me
A forlorn soul, tied to earth by pain,
Inside he seeks to make life pay,
The Criminal in Me
How many times I asked to be free
All in vain, no one can see
The Criminal in Me
Addictions to things both seen and not seen
Leaving all behind to find those things
The Criminal in Me
I look for peace but yet I must be
Not controlled but living by
The Criminal in Me.

Also published in Broowaha
First published in Opinionsofeye.com

 

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Questions –

“I want to say somewhere: I’ve tried to be forgiving. And yet. There were times in my life, whole years, when anger got the better of me. Ugliness turned me inside out. There was a certain satisfaction in bitterness. I courted it. It was standing outside, and I invited it in.”  ― Nicole Krauss, The History of Love 
summerswarrior
A vague feeling possesses my soul anonymously. Where does it come from? Does it brood in the dark waiting for a chance to squeeze through my door like a sneaky black cat darting between my legs for a chance to roam? Why would I want to sequester it like I need its undivided decision about who I am? I’m running around madly chasing the minuses of the life’s equation to herd them into a pen and shut the gate. This is hard work and I’m sweating profusely, no wonder I lived so long with them amok among my things. Why do I feel loyal enough to give them such a large field to run in? I thought myself to have won this battle but the little critters spawn like roaches and where I see one, it’s guaranteed that more hide in the shadows. Life is bored with complaints, it’s time for compliments to my soul. Like sour cream on a potato and lemon in the tea, the bitter makes the taste of life more palatable.
First published in Opinionsofeye.com

Levity –

“The certain prospect of death could sweeten every life with a precious and fragrant drop of levity.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche
angel-in-the-wind
Passing around hard thoughts,
Skipping through rough consequences
Rebuking the threats that abound
A break deserved brought about by
my sweet Levity.
The feasts are prepared,
a peaceful interlude is granted
smiles endure and the future ignored
an intermission paid in full by
my sweet Levity.
All memories are her ethereal songs,
Sweet lullabies sung before the never setting sun
Her persistent touch rocking the cradle
New life borne in light by
my sweet Levity.
First published in Opinionsofeye.com

Awkward Reasons –

God may forgive sins, he said, but awkwardness has no forgiveness in heaven or earth.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Great endowments often announce themselves in youth in the form of singularity and awkwardness.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

There are reasons why at times my interactions with people seem strained. I say the wrong things. I limp through my social circles, everyone making way for my awkward presence. I bring up subjects deep and poignant. I provoke thoughts, thoughts you’re not accustomed to. I speak in a way you find odd. My accent tainted, not pure, not from any one place. The same with my mannerisms. I fidget with my hands in a crowd, unsure of how to hold them. I wonder if the way I’m standing is threatening. If a purse is left close to me, I walk away, believing you’ll accuse me if something is missing. Trying to drive with a thousand choices that are made instantly, provokes these social swerves that seem ungainly and make others uncomfortable. 

 
Do you know that this isn’t me? This isn’t how I am, constrained to behave oddly, chained to a limp of the soul and mind. Do you know I’m injured? Do you know I almost died because of love? Do you know I fought for my life many times, not from just physical beatings but mental torture and illness? Do you know that I’ve argued for my release from beatings given, many, many times?
 
Do you know how these scars make it hard to smile? The hardened skin refusing to release the joy struggling to stay alive in the poisonous atmosphere of my melancholic soul? Do you know the thousand thoughts I think just to go out the door? Checking my clothes, the color of my skin, the dark circles under my eyes, the length of my nose, the girth of my belly? Do you know that walking to my car creates anxiety? I grab my keys like a weapon; I make sure I always have a knife, though these things have never delivered me from violence or comforted me. Do you know that I struggle with violence a hundred times an hour? Not only my self-imposed violence toward me or others, but of the perceived violence I see directed at me in every face? 
 
Do you know that I always try to help others? Do you know though having been burned 99 times out of hundred, I still reach out, thinking that everyone believes I’m a sucker? Thinking that they all talk among themselves, working out plans to rob me of my time, energy, and money? Do you know that I know you are using me? Do you know that I still give in spite of this? There are reasons, stop and consider why.
 
Take time to realize that the people you know and see everyday are hurt and wounded. Look out from your struggle and know that a friend, a family member, a bartender, a cashier, is on their last thread of hope, wanting to die from the pain they feel. Reach out with compassion on those who irritate you, understand that the scars they bear make it difficult to respond with graciousness toward you and your problems. We are all in this together, make room in the survival raft for those drowning in despair. Act without requiring a suicide note or a midnight call from the police before you reach out…

Also published in Broowaha Magazine
First published in Opinionsofeye.com
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