Tag: God

Jesus, Buddha, Confucius, Elon Musk

There are places like the stones of Stonehenge, Older than most sights and structures, Made of the mortal and the divine.  While Golgotha, is the place, where one man, picked a rugged cross and climbed up a hill, while whips cracked like flames. In one sacrifice, which only counted to three days Inside a coma,

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God and Love

I feel water splashing on my palms. I drink from a reservoir on a palm With no hesitation or worry.  How rainwater thrushes against my dryness Making me, a sponge of sorts. Like chunks of tofu in a soup, A heart capable of love. God leaks from the strangest places Not just from the heavens.

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Didn’t Morgan Freeman Play God?

How around supermarkets In Sri Lanka, there are signs saying “Don’t Go Silly” meaning not to use “Silly-Silly bags”,  Which are not biodegradable, and pollutes waste dumps, And water ways and rivers. Plastic, A polymer, survives from the Mormon bastion of Utah, To a pearl-drop island of Sri Lanka, From big love, to a land

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Jesus the Party Pooper

  When Anno Domini was a baby, Was when a man with charisma, Emerged, and became a tall lighthouse, To storm- ravaged hulls. And that man Jesus, Went to become a party pooper, Playing lamb on top of the skullcap mountain, A place called Golgotha. A man who stood in the rain, barely clothed, Nailed

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God

There is nothing more subjective than god. Some people carry him in their pockets, Some on their tongue, Some on their back, While other they camouflage god Inside profanities, And still god, he creeps through Cracks in your system, Beautifying that strange sanctum Called the soul, with bullet Proof walls. God is just Weatherproofing tomorrow

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God Days

  You’re tired to the brink, to the collar bone Sedimenting on beds and reclining chairs. The long plod of life As hostile as a mammoth scorpion Reversing for a fight. These are the days you remember God When that stubborn strain of weariness Regulates your movements You’re like a potato, the couch kind, Still

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The Man on the Mirror

Transfixation is a pristine mirror. The glass painted on one side and self reflected on the other I’m sitting in the front seat of a bus, looking At the rear view mirror. I know what is chasing me. The weeds that grow taller than the cultivars. The predators that run faster than the prey. You

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