Call me curmudgeon if you want
Ration or science or poet or biased-angry mammal
This season reminds me of my nightmares
It breeds them like cackle-crows wafting in a murder
I have grown to abhor Christmas,
Almost everything it stands for appears fraudulent,
hypocritical and contrived
Aside from my own personal crucible
My child is now eight and this past year I enjoyed the
benefit
Of ceasing to be a grand liar as Christians are taught to do
The fairy, the bunny, and the Claus were all debunked
In a contemplative child’s inquiry and so I was released
From the pact Christian parents are taught to do at baptism
Deceit as if one font of water has exclusivity on salvation
So we barter our urge to do the right thing, to be
good-people
That well, if not for me, then for her, for this tiny girl
days-old
Indoctrinated as I was, as her mother, with papers signed
into a census
Of innumerable bodies counted by the Pope as among a flock
Despite denouncing allegiance the bureaucracy refuses to
quit
Sending donation envelopes to my domicile or to claim my partisanship
I am waiting for the form to un-enroll;
Send me to your hell, perdition or limbo, if you still want
to waffle the term,
If it amuses your sense of ownership on the ultimate
indulgence, an afterlife
Yes, most humans want there to be a purpose to existence
that is explained
We want to cuddle with justice and recompense, grand design
Our necessity for religion is due to a lack of trust in self
and a lack of trust in humanity
To do the moral action given a lack of eternal retribution
Threatened through the unverifiable
We hunger for punishment or reward to be monitored
Rather than innate to our choices
Anchoring inside the dusty-room or our being in the now
Consequence echoes in our illusion of time
The epoch of eternity is tantalizing, yet improvable,
irrelevant and by definition
If it did exist, is the work of a maniacal deity plotting
torture and heinous acts,
That I would better rebel in dubbed impudence to stand for
true morality
That such tomes purport to extend
After my own experiences in recalling the advice of suicidal
and murdered priests
I am left laughing; hysterical hysteria of mythologies and
damn-right mad
That the world continues to play folly for imagined interventionist
deities;
The arrogance is the damnation the system claims to avert
Babbling nonsense to empty air in place of homelessness and
famine
Mental health treatment and a single avenue for mankind to
find redress
In such irrelevant spiritual contracts between man and woman
Or asexual decrier of sexuality in all its iterations,
The scrolls are found fallow by an internally spelunking theist
turning deist
To see that contact is impossible by the definition of our
own physical existence
Of protons and electrons the neutrons in the matter should
be apparent
Yet we seek preference based on such low hanging fruit as
worship
Or the avoidance of apocalyptic retribution in the baffling
infancy
Of our evolution on a tiny planet in a universe awaiting our
very non-eventful extinction
As ninety-eight percent of species that have ever existed on
Earth
Gyrations of warlocks and tax deductions, power structures
and poverty sustainers
My Christmas gift this season to myself and my child with
the magical sparkle of Santa
Has faded is to dissect the mythology of Jesus so that
reason has a space to breathe
Amongst this ocean of deceit, the lies, and end based on the
ability to intake that
Which humans older in exponential factor of her age will not
pause to contemplate
Based on reactionary disgust bored into thought by the
ironic fear that
Loving one’s self to see the possibility of eternal reward
or punishment
Is not and has never been a system to rationalize morality
The conduit is innate to reason alone, not Rah, not Odin nor
Judeo-Christian lore
I say this not to disparage those of divergent clans or
spaces of ideology
But know the very mythology of pages in my eyes divides this
world
Blinds this world and is the root of far more pain than
reconciling assistance
It is the systematical desegregation of mankind which was
once split
By language, by region, by continent, by migration pattern
Yet we are here galvanized by digital informational
technologies
On the precipice of our war between the alliances of those
who claim to converse
Or represent those who have conversed with the divine
And those who see the beauty of what is possible when one
burrows into one’s self
And simplicities rain in the beautiful darkness that coats
us in possibility
I do this not for obedience or fear, but by free-choice and
love
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