And It Was Good

God made the heavens and the earth,
Then,
God made Man,
Then,
Man learned to write,
Then,
Man made God.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Another Shift

Today was the first day that I chose to sit in the shade. I'd gotten so used to having the sun on me that the darker side of things felt eerily cold. Though it was far from winter, I felt deeply shaken and unsettled, uprooted from comfort. The pillars around me provided stripes of cover much like trees in a forest. Above me was a canopy that these pillars held up, and tiny beams of sunlight peaked through to reach me. I chose to be patient today. I chose not to rush from building to building, from class to class, from failure to success, from expense to investment. I decided to take a moment and breathe - survey my surroundings. When I stopped and looked, under the wings of a shadowy sanctuary, I noticed the hundreds of people who bolted from Point-A to Point-C. I could hear the marching of their shoes, heels, slippers, and flats, all working in unison toward a cause unknown. I saw human beings swallowed up by piles of brick and concrete, only to later be regurgitated with newf...
Read more

Undying

Let not the air you breathe be your guide, for fairest breathes are taken in suspended exasperation. Let not your eyes deceive you with fateful findings and such visual expressions of dull color that would render ones soul reaped. Let not your nose steal even a wisp of the scent of death, for the tendons of the fell creatures that envelope such corpses are full of hasty hunger. Let only your hands be your brace against the brisk winds of labor. Let only your hands hold steadfast the weight of your genius in its gloriously hefty stature. Lest you grow old and wither, your hands cannot unleash an imagination lesser than god. For god is a man with pencil in hand and a heart in his palm. For our deepest concupiscence lies wrapped in our tongues, begging with all remorseful greed to be unraveled and splayed upon the very grandeur of crafted sheet. To smell the scent of printed elixir, to beseech upon thee the vision of fattened ink, to breathe in the thickened vapor of insp...
Read more

Lecture Language

Body language is more than a cue, More than a wave of the hand or arms. It often speaks as the name begets, Inflicting pain or mouthing charm. It is the instructor telling her class, "I shouldn't work harder than you," While cupping her eyes At the lower lip of their lids. Nosing up. Staring down. Wearing down the academe Who would not dare to make a scene Because the son at home is hungry, And Momma needs to make more money. Baby boy can't milk the breast of Promise and degree for long. He wants the taste of stress and sweat As much as the next helpless child. Maybe that's why Toddlers would crawl through mazes like mice To come upon a few sweet treats Because they are sick of Momma's tired teet. But she will work harder than the voice across the room. The ode to seniority. The air of superiority Which reduces Momma to a sponging mind and pencil. Whose task for now Is looking up longingly at the security That hovers over the...
Read more