If we lift our hands in orchestrated ecstasy to the God we cannot see but refuse to raise our voices in solidarity with brothers and sisters who grieve before our very eyes then we are indeed fully opiated addicts to religion’s needle, and whatever flimflam of hope that is within us is gelded and knows nothing of the fury of love.
seek and you shall find
- The poem I read today at Kara's funeral service ~ thebeautifuldue.wordpress.com/2015/03/28/som… 10 hours ago
- Something Else wp.me/p1ARVX-23R 10 hours ago
- @aarondmchugh You drive, I'll write a poem in each state, we'll sell 'em, then buy our wives fancy jewelry, and we'll retire early. Ok? 1 day ago