For the Song Lyric Sunday – https://helenswordsoflife.com/2018/09/22/song-lyric-sunday-theme-for-9-23-18/
The theme today is sleep.
The youtube has the lyrics, song writer was Tony Macaulay.
Listen to the music, hear the words, look both ways, feel the tune, and mind the gaps.
Prompted by: ‘Smoldering coals of fury with which oppression always fires the soul.’ (1862)
Anger burned like acid surging through his body,
deadly rage ran unfiltered with each breath
as in shame he hid and buried his anger
as it called out for vengeance – for satisfaction.
He felt the scalding physical pain of revenge withheld.
He felt how the inhumanity man can deal to his
fellow man is without comparison.
Only man hates his own. As only man can
kill without reason and crush his kind
without purpose or cause, leaving no real hope.
He felt helpless as despair hardened him.
His broken mind and heart pleaded for him to let loose
the righteous fury growing inside as hours, days,
and years passed in the agony of painful misery,
hatred pounded his chest to be loosed
as his purposeless worthless life festered.
He spoke to his anger about the promise
of a better life, but not for him.
His was to live into his dream
of revenge and retribution with the fury
of the spurned prisoner held within him,
but for not much longer.
Soon he would defeat their world.
Soon he could kill them all,
and his hate would feast on their flesh.
All the pain and suffering would be avenged.
Then he could die in peace,
with honor avenged, pride returned,
his life’s purpose satisfied.
©Bill Reynolds
Several people suggested that my experience with religion may have moved me to embrace atheism. I don’t deny the experience. But, religion was not responsible for my conclusion that no gods exist.
I was born not knowing. Somebody told me there was a god and I trusted they knew what they were talking about. As a child, I ‘believed’ in god because I believed who told me. For shorter periods of time I also believed in Santa Clause and the tooth fairy. I was also convinced monsters existed even though no one told me they did. I never saw a god, Santa, or the tooth fairy. I was sure I saw the monsters, and some lived under my bed.
I was initially told that all these entities existed except for the monsters, but they were the only ones I reacted to and lost sleep over.
I was emphatically told by my parents that there were no monsters and no ghosts. I was agnostic about the ghosts, having seen Casper cartoons. But no monsters? Bull shit! I knew what I saw was real! I began to have doubts about parental honesty.
Eventually, I unwillingly figured out the deal with Santa and the tooth fairy. I also gave up on the monsters, or perhaps they tired of me. Maybe the tooth fairy turned them into dust bunnies.
I figured out the god thingy last, around age fourteen. I was never dumb enough to tell anyone, even friends, that I no longer was buying the eternal life package. My father was the type of Irish-Catholic coal miner who would have attempted to pound belief into me. Besides, the religion thing worked to my social advantage. I often wonder how many of us practice religion for some social advantage or for financial gain, but don’t buy it either.
When my Catholic parish learned that I was an active participant in the protestant Episcopal church down the street, it pissed them off. That pleased me. If I could in some way return the ‘love,’ my parish seemed to have toward me, I was all for that.
Not so much with my parents, who were more upset. Those poor folks had a real shit-head difficult lad to raise, so church was the least of their concerns. Yet, I heard my mother say, “It may not be Catholic, but at least he has a religion.” I did not. But, if she was accepting, I wasn’t going to change it.
The church down the street was a playground of youthful debauchery. I was one of several Catholic teens (boys and girls) who participated in their youth group. My motivation for participation was likely untoward and had nothing to do with religion or god. That was then.
Now, my overall philosophy is a moving target that even I find difficult to corral and define. So, I stole this idea of a three-legged stool from somewhere. One of the legs of the stool is god, which is why the damn thing keeps falling over. Any god or gods get to share one leg and no more. The leg is there, but it’s symbolic. You could call it atheism, but not exactly.
Religion, which I define as the rules regarding humans dealing with gods, is the second leg of the stool. Religion and god relate but are not the same. The religion leg casts an unfavorable shadow upon the god leg. As splintered and twisted as it is, religion exists.
While the non-existence of god is almost a neutral, unemotional, changeable conclusion that came to me from thoughts; my vehement enmity toward all religion, especially the known ‘organized’ faiths, is unwavering and continues to grow as I age and reflect upon what I see and know. If god were to appear before me right now and provide enough proof to roll any skeptic, I would morph to belief in a New York minute, but I would continue to detest religion.
This is where my atheism gets confused with my religious experience. My bitter feelings about religion stem from experience and knowledge. While I am accepting of religious folks and I extend kindness to most believers (and they to me), what they believe I tolerate but don’t respect.
Religious mumbo-jumbo has nothing to do with whether any gods exist. Yet, I remain open to the tiniest of possibilities that something may change my mind. However, throughout history, nothing has ever happened to any human that would convince me otherwise.
What most people seem to believe about god and how to relate or interact with that god is manmade. However, religion has a lot to do with how people act toward each other. Call it morality. Theoretically, that should be good. Historically and practically, it has been otherwise.
The third leg is my spiritual philosophy, which is influenced by the other two legs (no-gods exist, and bad religion). The three legs support the seat, which is my overall philosophy (of life, my world view, reason for…whatever). The analogy isn’t perfect but it works for now.
In a debate Rev Al Sharpton and Christopher Hitchens once struggled to find disagreement because Sharpton kept trying to debate the existence of god (which he admitted he couldn’t prove) while Hitch pointed to problems with scripture, evil, and religion (Hitch admitted he couldn’t prove the non-existence of god). Two separate topics that influence the third philosophical leg of my metaphorical stool.
Atheism is not a religion, a belief system, a philosophy, or anything other than an acceptance of one’s opinion that god might not exist, or probably doesn’t. Atheists have divergent views as do most human groups. Some atheists are nihilist. Most are not. A few atheists go to church. Most do not. Some atheists make room for unscientific things in their opinions and how they live. Others claim that such opinions are not those of true atheists.
It can be confusing. But can’t the same be said of believers? Since I was a child, I was told that TV preachers were nonsense. I still think so. Many believers agree with me. Many believers reject the idea of a virgin birth, others call that heresy. I could go on about divergent religious beliefs, even within a specific religion such as Roman Catholic, Shiite Muslim, or Mahayana Buddhist. Dare I add Southern Baptist or Mormon? But that’s not my point.
While many atheists say that reading scripture will lead to disbelief, I contend that not believing in god is a rational decision not based on religion, dogma, or scripture, even though any of that will support atheism once the no-gods conclusion is reached.
While I claim to be rationally atheist for logical reasons, I think I’m also intrinsically incapable of believing in god without very concrete proof. No religion or religious person; priest, pedophile, or persecutor drove me away from believing in god. I tried to believe. I just couldn’t. Now, I openly don’t. I’m as pleased with that as believers are who foresee their blissful eternity simply because they believe and nothing more. I’m okay with that.
Look both ways in life. Learn from the past. Plan for the future.
Mind the gaps for denial and confusion.
Autumn Countdown
hobby lobby has christmas decorations out.
lots of them. hello?
i agree with moving christmas
to august.
december will be fine without it.
but it is fucking august. it’s the dog-days month.
august is boring.
lots of peeps have b-days,
but august is what?
end of summer, school…
what fool advocate of child abuse
starts school before labor day?
that’s not god’s plan, fool.
they have halloween stuff up too,
but twice as much christmas,
maybe some turkey day
shit mixed in.
but it’s hot. hot, hot: august.
and they took out the posters
i was looking for.
i don’t hate august,
but it is shamefully boring.
give it a break
move christmas there.
we have hanukkah,
yule,
kwanzaa,
new year’s eve
in December
and it would stop
many from saying ‘happy holidays’
thus getting so many
folk’s panties in a wad
over some fucking imagined war-on,
and august would be so grateful.
instead of waiting for next year,
kids could ask
what’d ya get for christmas?
in september.
pre-season football? who cares?
even the bugs
have had enough
of this crap,
bring on the fall,
september,
halloween,
and days we can sink
our teeth into.
© Bill Reynolds 8/20/2018
Look both ways, between May and September. 
Mind the gaps and the croaked cicadas.
Am I not my own beast? May I set him free?
This beast lives and he lives within me.
In some manner or way, I am he, and it is I
who fears the beast. And I know why.
This is no charming fucking poet.
He is no eloquent reader of verse;
he’s no lover of beauty for all to see.
‘tis me, this beast, but is he also not me?
Summon your magic, bring on a shaman,
twist my beast with the best that you can.
Bring on the robots. Cast the day’s best witchery
into the face of this monster, who really is me.
Cut him and burn him and poison the beast.
More lives than a cat, he’ll find his way back.
From annihilation, he’ll rise-up, again to be me.
A beast: one with me. Here to kill me, you’ll see.
Look deep. Dig deeper still. Search for his mark.
In this battle for life, made from my nature,
his shadow will be there for as long as I lurk.
This beast that we seek – has control of my future.
© Bill Reynolds 8/8/18
Recently, I read about a British poet named Peter Reading. He and I were born on the same day. His poetry is said to be ugly and morbid in its honesty. Yet, I do hope to read more of Peter’s work soon. While Peter was not the inspiration for this specific poem, his attitude was.
I am also trying to write my words as they come, regardless of what others may think. That is not easy, but it’s not like I’m trying to make a living writing poetry. Sometimes, it is just bleak.
This outburst is just another poem. While it shouldn’t be taken lightly, I reject any perceived notion that I need counseling or psychiatric care. I’m fine, but this is how it came to me.
Look both ways, inward and out.
Mind the gaps as well as the beast within.
So Many Doors
She hunts ‘em down and shows us
her discovered captured doors.
Posterns aplenty – doors are everywhere.
The doors may be opened or closed,
some’s locked, some ‘er not.
Glass doors, revolving doors,
important doors, cabin doors
and swinging saloon doors,
bathroom doors, stall doors, the hall door,
floor doors are trap doors.
Behind the green door, the red
doors and popular now are black doors.
Front doors lead to back doors,
ugly doors are artful doors.
Metal doors, fire doors, hollow core
doors, broken doors, missing doors
are no more doors, where there
once were doors before.
Doors with windows and windows
that are also doors. French doors.
Decorations for doors, door jewels
with glass knobs, fixtures, matching hardware.
Lions there guarding the doors.
Dead as a doornail on the floor,
cellar doors, creaky and squeaky doors.
Barn doors with no barn,
Pocket doors with no pants,
sliding doors to hide away or rollup doors.
Prison doors, some have bars,
not the kind I like. Old doors
are deco and may be
flat as a bar. Secret hidden doors
or awesome old church doors.
Some DOORS Lit My Fire
till I burned out. Snuffed out doors.
Slamming screen doors,
cupboard or closet doors.
There are doorways and doorjambs,
automatic doors and
handicap doors with buttons.
We got building doors,
bleeding doors and rusty doors.
Doors keep us safe or stand
in our way.
One may be the door to enlightenment
or a blocked door can be
an impediment to progress.
Some doors go nowhere.
Death has a door, they say.
There are doors on gates and
gates that are doors. Car
doors keep us safe but can cause
too much pain.
Doors are portals, trunks, hoods, canopies,
or vaults. Doors what let us in
and doors that keep us out,
Entry and exit doors ignored.
Never thought I’d be pub sitting
sipping a pint o’ porter watching
Cards beat Cubs and writing this
poem.
It’s all about doors.
But here I am.
Sitting near the door.
Writing and watching,
for the next cat to come
thru that door.
© Bill Reynolds 8/6/2018
Look both ways passing through life’s doors.
Mind the gaps in the floors near the doors.
I’m atheist. I do not identify as humanist or nihilist. I’m expert in neither, but I agree with some views of both philosophies even though they often conflict. That sometimes makes me of two minds, or maybe three. Click this link for my story if you need to know it, but, ya probably don’t.
I decided to post this in two parts to keep them of reasonable length. In this part, I talk about things that believers (I say Christians, because that’s what most Americans are) are wrong about regarding atheists. It’s been said a lot, but not enough. Part II will address some things I think people should know (particularly Christians, but anyone) about atheists. Some atheists read my blog and I hope they will correct my errors or clarify my confusion.
I’ve often read long, esoteric, philosophical explanations about why atheists are bad people. I’m a sensitive man, and they hurt what feelings I still have. Since being atheist is simple (we believe in no gods; done.), those rants are virtually always wrong. They are not attempts to convince me to repent or to believe in god. They simply judge atheists, or atheism, as bad.
Belief in god makes no one better, and vice versa. But, most believers seem to think it does make them better. Otherwise, why bother with religion? That is to be expected. Conversely, they further seem to think that not believing makes me worse. A lot worse, apparently. Since these folks have no specific atheist behavior to point to, they go off on long, broad-brush, baseless philosophical tirades that can only be explained as being essential to their own personal and spiritual well-being. We all know people who put others down to make themselves feel good.
I fully understand the morality issue for some folks. But atheists are as moral as anyone. Yet, these rants are not as simple as holier than thou. Each is judging other people they do not know as evil for having a harmless opinion. Conversely, those who do evil things and repent (or maybe not) are judged to be better than those who simply don’t think gods exist. How is that logical?
However, leading the pack of obnoxious nonsensical know-it-alls are the clueless people who seem to know exactly what atheism is, what atheists are up to, and why. They claim to know our thoughts. Yet, for all the animus it generates, atheism is simple. But these self-appointed detractors are not atheist and don’t seem to want to get it right. What they seem to want is to preserve something that disbelief threatens simply by being a conclusion in someone’s mind – a conclusion that can change (as in reverse) in a New York minute, but rarely does.
These holy souls swing at the low-hanging-fruit to bash people for what they believe. This is partly because of what they think (not know) about atheists and atheism. Such assaults are unnecessary, insulting, and vulgar. One Orthodox Christian priest has said that embracing atheism is worse than committing murderer. People believe this crap, especially when it’s said from the pulpit by a “man of god.” That annoys me.
I have my limited personal experience, but surveys I’ve read indicated that people trust atheists (I assume ones they don’t know) about the same as convicted rapists and murderers. In some states, it is illegal for an atheist to hold public office, even if democratically elected. While such laws are not enforceable, they remain on the books. Very few outspoken atheists hold elected office – none nationally. So, why the need to pile-on with the endless “they are bad, bad, bad?”
Recently, I read a post by someone who insisted that all atheists are nihilist. Following several of my objecting comments, he stood firm with his accusation. In the essay he further insinuated that any social justice work done by atheists is a ruse, insincere, and as doomed as a “utopia” (his word). Now, that shit hurts. I can’t imagine how he connected nihilism to utopia (dystopia perhaps?). This, they will say they’re not, but they are argument is worthless. Do all Christians play with snakes or drink poison to prove the strength of their faith? Of course not. Nor do all atheists agree with nihilist philosophies. It’s difficult enough without someone making stuff up.
Look both ways: either there is a god or there are not gods.
Consider all the gaps and mind them well.
I remember, I remember, oh how
I was turning five and still alive
entering the world of kindergarten.
Grown-up, is what I was now.
Friends came with gifts
names and trinkets long forgotten,
we romped and played and we
yelled and screamed and gamed.
We played on and on into
the reality of life, that secret
so well kept that it was a time
of passage into an elementary world.
© Bill Reynolds 7/27/2018
I’m now seventy-two –
So, what’s it to you?
‘at depends I suppose
On where my life goes.
Think I’m set in my ways?
that it’s how I stays?
Well, I got news for ya,
I’m still learning, too.
To them’s who’s gone before meh,
I’m glad ya got to know meh.
For if it’s me yer comin’ after,
Drink one to the old bastard master.
© Bill Reynolds 7/27/2018
Again, to the past, look both ways and you’ll last.
Still mind the gap, lest you get an unwanted trip.
To the pack and the pride, to my deadly tribe
To run with wolves just one more time,
To chase our prey for one more day,
To catch the scent, to run the night away.
To howl at the moon, to make love
and to swoon. To drink to our health,
and to things greater than self.
To hear all the cries, from above and below.
To charge and to hunt, to fight with the best.
To give all that I have, and to hold nothing back.
To be true to my nature, to no longer resist.
To the pack and the pride, to give you my life.
© Bill Reynolds 7/26/2018
Look both ways to the peers and the cheers.
Know where you stand, with the gaps in the band.
Dream and dream and dream,
Is this life my dream within a dream?
My fantasy and my horror?
Is my pleasure only what is seen?
Pity she who cannot dream and feel
sorry for he who cannot visit
the dark night of pleasured dreams.
True pleasure and true fear in the mist.
Dreams wrapped in dreams
nightmares filled with fear and panic,
Pleasure unrestricted by rules
and commitments of fact.
I stand before my mind
searching for the dream of life,
Wanting in and wanting out
to dream and to dream and to dream about.
© Bill Reynolds 7/25/2018
Dream and look both ways, into the night in the light of the day. Mind gaps of dusk and dawn.
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