Poetry and Stuff

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Poetry and Stuff

Postby Flare » Tue Sep 18, 2007 9:45 pm

The Forgotten One
The wounds that never heal
The comfort, brief but substaining.
The monster, always waiting.
She hates what she needs
She loves what she hates
And now only unbearable silence
So very loud
And darkness so very tempting
Do the dreams go on?
Who will guard them now?
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Postby Flare » Tue Sep 18, 2007 11:38 pm

My Conversation with God

I was having a bad day, a really bad day. Hmmm… that really doesn’t portray it accurately. Let’s see. Okay, if bad days were politicians this would have been a George Bush kind of day. It was the kind of day that leaves you bombing random countries for reasons that you can’t explain to anyone’s satisfaction.

I was on my knees, not really having the strength or inclination to get up. There wasn’t really an up to get to anyway since every piece of furniture in my house had vanished. Strangely, I was kind of in the mood for conversation. Since my house was suddenly devoid of family as well as furnishing, I sought out the only one that had to listen to me. It must have been the kneeling thing that brought him to mind.

Me: Umm God, I seem to be experiencing some difficulties here.

God: (after an overly long pause) Excuse me. Do I know you?

Me: Yeah, we’ve spoken before. I believe I was crying then too. I was in the hospital… you know the “my life for his” thing?

God: Yes, I remember now. What seems to be the problem this time?

Me: Uh yeah. I seem to have misplaced my life. When I got home it wasn’t here anymore. It’s a little unsettling.

God: You lost your entire life? How irresponsible of you.

Me: Yeah, I got that. So anyway, I was kind of wondering where it went. I could swear I left it right here. It may not seem like all that much in the grand scheme of things, but I am sort of attached to it. So if you could just point it out to me I’ll be out of your ethereal hair. I know you’re a busy guy.

God: Its south. Vaguely. That’s all you need to know. It’s safe and intact, it just doesn’t belong to you anymore.

Me: Wow, that’s a bummer. None of it? I mean I didn’t like the living room set very much, but the kids and the husband were sort of important to me. Is this like your final answer and stuff?

God: I’m afraid so.

Me: Is there someone else up there I can talk to?

God: I’m afraid not. Labor difficulties you understand.

Me: Okay, Is there some sort of appeal process?

God: You’d never get through the paperwork, and there are no lawyers up here to help with it.

Me: I’ve not been a very nice person, but come on. Everything? Did you have to take everything?

God: (laughing) Not a nice person? You are an adulteress, an abuser, and a liar. You ignore your children and berate your husband. You are selfish, immoral, and completely lacking in any redeeming qualities. Your life is better without you in it.

Me: Don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel.

Several hours later I took up the conversation with him again. It was easy, I was still in the same positon.

Me: Okay God, you’re right.

God: You think?

Me: I thought “in his image” was figurative. This conversation is hard enough without sarcasm. So how do I fix it?

God: Sarcasm is the only language you speak. And you don’t fix it. The decision is made.

(Several hours later again)

Me: Okay, it’s in your hands.

God: It always was. Its about time you acknowledged it.

Me: I’m going to tell them I’m sorry

God: Of course you are, you have to have the last word. It’s not going to matter though.

Me: I’m going to change.

God: Of course you are, you have no choice. That’s not going to matter either you know.

Me: I’m surrendering to him.

God: Still not going to matter.

Me: I’m surrendering to you.

God: That matters. The decision still stands though.

Me: I know. Doesn’t matter.
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