Letting Go

When you have a goal
And it is sharp, clear,
Vibrant…calling you…
How can you ignore
Its pull on your heart?

The heart thinks it knows
What it wants; but it
Is fallible and
It makes bad choices
And so we know pain.

Go ‘head, heed the heart,
But give the liver
A listen. And your
Pancreas, kidneys,
The sweetmeats, as well.

Everybody has needs
But too few are met;
So we learn to want,
We feel pain, desire
But then we settle…

Because sometimes joy
Is just not crying.
And not crying is
Good enough for me.
Yeah, enough for me.

Your heart wants what it wants,
And so, likewise,
Does your brain make sense
of sight with your eyes.

What good does it to despise
Your own nerves as so many lies?

Your senses are not wrong, love.
They may come from above
Or perhaps from below,
But rest assured they are so.

You can mistake what they mean,
But not how they feel.
They are the planks of your "I",
the scaffolding of what is real.

You can't turn away
From the things that they say
Because you know what you saw.
It was there; it was raw.

Your senses are
Communion with the Cosmos,
the only hope of finding God
Or knowing what else is true.

Know them,
Sit with them,
learn what they do and
Learn what they cannot do,
And then
Own them.
They are yours,
And they work for you.

I'm still waiting for exmo haiku because I need a good laugh.

Dave hijacked a thread
Just because he was able,
So now what happens?

the morg uses fear ~

it is its biggest weapon ~

skid marks on garments ~

+++

the book of mormon ~

the foundation of your church ? ~

you are kidding right ? ~

+++

thanks to joseph’s taste ~

for wealth, power and women ~

millions duped and conned ~

+++


give satan his due ~

mormons become atheists ~

either way he wins ~

+++

in b 4 ~ in b 4 ~

Satan and Jesus are twin brothers. The one stole the other's birthright and blessing.

God has to give both of his sons their due.

Now is the time of one's power...

Don’t enter their lair

Salt Lake temple is spooky

It makes reason stare.

The Hole Donut

I want a bite to hold
In my mouth
A hug from my tongue.

What does it mean
The golden shell
around a sweet dough
That feels like something
I stole.

Does my nose taste
Through holes
That bathe in the grease
From my holy feast?

Feels like it was blessed
By a bit more than yeast.

My mom is like the hole
Of a donut.
I came from her
But the only sweetness
I found was around the hole.

The human being as a torus. . .

A hare better than a tortoise.

A Mormon who lives in Salt Lake
Discovered the church is just fake.
He told his dear wife
Who threatened his life.
He now has a tough choice to make.

Why was his life threatened?

Jesus.

There once was a Mormon from Orem
Who bought refried beans just to store 'em
Expecting a feast
Jesus came from the east
With tortillas for the whole Elder's Quorum.



Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 09/11/2022 03:55AM by bradley.

Bliss it's not
what it was cracked up to
being a god
in glory and purpose
fell short of all
my earthly soul
craved.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/11/2022 12:34AM by auntsukey.

Lovely. What is bliss if it requires being a creator of misery.

How would I then know

I would soon lick her cupcake

First week B-Y-U

I asked about aliens in seminary
They said we could ask anything
So I wanted to know about aliens
Since I was a huge nerd

I asked about aliens in seminary
And was told that all life
Was made in God's image
Throughout the universe

I asked about aliens in seminary
And they said that we were apprentices
Meant to only copy a master
With zero deviation allowed

I asked about aliens in seminary
Pondered the teachers answers
And thought to myself,
"What kind of asshat wants everyone in the universe to be just like him?!"


ETA: Inspired by true events.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/13/2022 11:11PM by ookami.

God knows...

I'm with you, ookami, particularly concerning your masterful conclusion: "What kind of asshat wants everyone in the universe to be just like him?!".

I believe there is a fundamental truth in that proclamation. I have always sought out people who were NOT like me because that makes us more interesting to one another. This includes my wife, who is very unlike me, thankfully ;-)

I am aware that I am an exception in this but I don't really understand why - although I suspect that much of it is just intellectual laziness at not wanting to be bothered by new things...



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/14/2022 02:55PM by Soft Machine.

Shortest poem in English language. Not original from me.
-------------------

FLEAS

Adam had'em

Eve Conceived

Well, you asked for it, so I had a look at some of mine and almost immediately stumbled on this one, which almost seems tailor-made for RfM and Mormonism, but actually dates from the early nineties, I think (I was still very much a drinker back then...) when my awareness of TSCC was not very extensive.

Prophet and Loss

When you come back from the microcosm,
Your heavy brain is filled with colours that you can't describe
And thoughts not of your inventing. Are you dumb?
Speak to the macrocosm of eternal blood spilled -
But clearly, because of the scribe, to help with his implementing.

You have seen the immense sculptures of souls
Holding this old world up and life is more complicated
Than a dream could encapsulate. What a scene!
A conference of black holes could never fill the cup
Emptier than your mad fate did. Is it a sin to permutate?

When your book has been chiselled into stone,
Its numerology fixed and studied beyond your realm,
Rest in the desert for a while. Let them look
Only at what they can't own. Refuse theology.
Let no idea take the helm unless it's prepared to smile.

Then return to their cities where they dance
Their worthless lives away. Tell them that they're right to do so
And that it's vital not to stop. They will burn
Later but, in your blue trance, you'll find the thing to say
So that your feigned sorrow will show. Is it a sin to set up shop?

"Let no idea take the helm unless it's prepared to smile."


The story of my self-censored life...

It's the one line I don't really like or "get", because it sounds hippy-dippy and I wanted the Prophet to be ultimately rather a nasty piece of work, but I think/hope I meant that "ideas prepared to smile" may well be lies ;-)

Because I am not a prophet, leader of men, or even very social, the line works for me!



ETA: Oh, yeah, I am a nasty piece of work!



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/14/2022 03:42PM by elderolddog.

elderolddog Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Oh, yeah, I am a nasty piece of work!

If so, this is a bit of verse is for you:

The cat crept in,
Crapped,
Crept out.

Soft Machine Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> ... but I think/hope I meant that "ideas
> prepared to smile" may well be lies ;-)

That is profound Tom.

"Is it a sin to set up shop?"

Only if the bloody macrocosm of mindless not being human didn't mind the use of their name to extract human dreams for the future to sacrifice.

You ask me if I love you
And I choke on my reply
I'd rather hurt you, honestly
Than mislead you with a lie

And who am I to judge you
On what you say or do?
I'm only just beginning
To see the real you

And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you 'til I die
'Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you
'Til the fear in me subsides

Romance and all its strategy
Leaves me battling with my pride
But through the insecurity
Some tenderness survives

I'm just another writer
Still trapped within my truth
A hesitant prize fighter
Still trapped within my youth

Sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you 'til I die
'Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you
'Til the fear in me subsides

At times I'd like to break you
And drive you to your knees
At times I'd like to break through
And hold you endlessly

At times I understand you
And I know how hard you've tried
I've watched while love commands you
And I've watched love pass you by

At times I think we're drifters
Still searching for a friend
A brother or a sister
But then the passion flares again

And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you 'til I die
'Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you
'Til the fear in me subsides




How common is anguish of "the one that got away"?  

That is honestly too much.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IATz8ZVTALo


I love rhyming writer and fighter.

Interchangeable in some folks and in different ways.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/14/2022 05:18PM by Nightingale.

I don't have TV, I pay for commercial-free YouTube, and one of my play lists was on as I was playing here on RfM, and this very song came on, goading me to post as I did.

Life is for the living.

Sometimes the one that got away is the one who would have smothered you in your sleep with a pillow.

In my case, I think she would have stayed TBM, and that's probably just as fatal.

The one that got away, that broke my heart and haunted my dreams, now suffers from advanced dementia. And the one who stole him from me now lives a lonely vigil as she cares for him, with his broken mind.

You'd think that would be karma. But instead she and I grieve together.

auntsukey Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> You'd think that would be karma. But instead she
> and I grieve together.

You sound like a fine person.

I like this poem a lot.

LOL. Thanks, but no. Been there, done that, several times.

Here's a Western haiku:

Ravi Shankar “Lines on a Skull”

life’s little, our heads
sad. Redeemed and wasting clay
this chance. Be of use.


The commentary is as follows:

A slightly darker take on the art of haiku, “Lines on a Skull” is inspired by Lord Byron’s “Lines Inscribed Upon a Cup formed from a Skull.” Poet Ravi Shankar distills this late seventeenth-century poet’s words into a more modern, potent, and visceral version.


"Be of use" - that is not a bad life motto to keep in mind.

And it's so right on topic, the question being: Of what earthly or heavenly use is Mormonism to anyone or anything at all? As so many exmos have inquired.

And as likely all converts (so-called) cry (including me): "What the hell was THAT?"

You know that ancient line from a '60s TV cop drama: "There are eight million stories in the naked city."

Well, I say there are eighty billion x eight things to do in life besides cleaning chapels, scrubbing toilets, hearing same old, same old in endless meetings, attending temple sessions, faking smiles, dead dunking and listening to the Tab Choir.

Sorry Mormons.

My Rage Against the Autobots

I had on a Sunday suit
A dry cleaned shirt and tie
My pants were creased above my shoes
My mannerisms wry

I couldn’t hide contrary thoughts
Nor bottle up inside
My rage against the autobots
Who sported suits and ties

Nice.

Prime poetry.

When tossed about on tides of chance
Or merciless life circumstance
And skies are dark and winds a stormin'
I'm glad I'm not a flippin' Mormon.

I'm glad I'm not a flippin' exMormon makes more sense to me.

Those shiny happy people have a hymn like this.

https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/music/text/hymns/count-your-blessings?lang=eng

Draw a circle 'round your life
and call it holy.

Give yourself to god
and give it wholy

Spurn the world;
we dare not live it fully

Forsake all else;
embrace the bully.

Twinker Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Draw a circle 'round your life
> and call it holy.
>
> Give yourself to god
> and give it wholy
>
> Spurn the world;
> we dare not live it fully
>
> Forsake all else;
> embrace the bully.

Wow - holy, wholy, bully. Pretty darn good.

Wooly booly!

Mormons won’t require a background check
They just did away with Scouts
When your founder can’t pass a background check
You might be on an abusive CULT!

Not the best effort here in my opinion.

I love my bone

Its nice and white

I sleep with it

every night

When other dogs try to steal my bone

I tell them to go home

This is my bone poem

By Phil the yellow lab

The Craven
(Apologies to Poe)

One Sunday morning as I awoke feeling bleary
There came a rapping, tapping at my door
Only the missionaries, nothing more.

An additional line:

Nevermore. . .

Or a repetition of your closing sentiment:

Nothing more. . .



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/17/2022 12:21AM by Lot's Wife.

The Craven (revised)

One Sunday morning as I awoke feeling bleary,
(My night with Lenore made me weary)
There came a rapping, tapping at my door
Only the missionaries, nothing more

Nothing more!

WIN !!!

God always loves you
How do we know?
Somebody said so
A long time ago

God may not like you
The things that you do
Somebody said so
Has to be true

God can still fix you
He's there for you
Somebody says so
What do you do?

"Please show me the way"
Beseech we of God
But it's silence that greets you
You haven't a clue

"There still is a way
To get into His grace"
Somebody says so
They'll see you through!

"Trust me on this one
I've got Jesus ear
He bids me speak for Him
He's always near"

"He's dying to see you
Just do as I say
Get out your checkbook
For I am "The Way"

O.J. and Satan, two of a kind;
They each had great histories
By which they would love to be defined.
But pride caused them miseries...

And now we can't watch the robust ways
Of O. J. 's college and pro great plays.

Thank heaven you can still see Satan late at night on AMC.