There is no feeling right now.
Lost is a sense
Of spirit
Bringing forth vitality.
These words run rampant
As a rant resurfaces
Through a ravine of religions
Engaged in the battle of insignias.
There are no victors.
Only bloodshed
Under the guise of piety
Under the fallacy
That sacrifice is surely
A savior from sacrilege
Haunting is the Hattori Hanzo
Inspired upheaval
Of the celestial symbols.
I just stand nearby
Waiting
Desperately
For a theological truce to transpire
And for our trusty abstract friends:
The star
The cross
The moon
The swirls
The monk
Among others
To serve as our lucky charms
Rather than charm us out of luck.
The gods have surely run amok.
Still I wait.
Sitting.
Tucked away in a dark corner
Awaiting that feeling.
The sound that lets me know
That there is a god.
I weep at the wonder
Of our wandering sense of scruples
Settled in seminaries.
In true form
We would emulate the canonized
Appreciate the imprisoned
Reinforce the roaring of vengeance
As bloodcurdling screams of terror
Overstep the boundary
Bringing forth orgasmic yells.
In reality,
We are all saints.
We are all prisoners.
We are all avengers
Deep down inside.
Hoping for goodness
In the recesses of our cages
Fighting for those less fortunate.
Ourselves mostly and usually.
Sometimes as ourselves.
Other times under a banner of faith.
There is no telling when
The war of supreme worlds
Woven with serene words
Will resolve.
Surely,
It will not happen in America,
Where the likes of
Simon Templar
Number Six
And Emma Peel
Reside within a televisual ghetto
Neglected by most.
I sit here
Listening to litanies of love
Empowered by elite outlooks
Aiming to objectify
Other vessels
Of organized omnipotence.
More and more,
My mind manifests machinations
Of magic
Molested by the ministry
Of the media:
Mass-murderers of individuality.
Multifaceted masquerades of empowerment.
Mainstream melees
Played out between the ornaments
On "The O'Reilly Factor"
All the while,
Religions realize the reincarnation
Of their roots
While the trunks
Take blows to their hearts.
Yellow stars
Bastardized by movie stars
Climbing trees of life
Ignoring tenements
And testaments
Spanning millennia.
But now Judaism is trivia.
Answer for a yellow wedge.
I now await the day
When my descendants
Are referred to
As practitioners
Of the faith
Formerly known as Judaism
And currently known as Kabbalah.
Ideals containing logic
Forming the shape of a mandala.
Affirm your beliefs.
Share your ideas.
Take traditions to the tunnels
Of your trachea
So that you may truly feel the spirit
Once one aims to cut you
Where the pain is most intense,
I don't know what to interpret as truth anymore.
All I have is sense of respect
For my fellow man.
I believe in my lineage,
My ancestors
Untimely ripped from this earth.
My faith
Lies within the yellow stars
Foreshadowing the establishment
Of the blue and white banner
I wave with pride.
Most importantly.
I believe in the pen.

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