Poetry-Thing Thursday: Dead Seasons

Ice and snow.
Bitter cold.
What better time than winter,
to die alone and old?

Would you rather it were rains,
in a spring that breeds new life?
Or perhaps the cool breeze,
of a warm summer’s night.

If not, make it through autumn,
for it is the least of best times,
and let winter come take you;
Aged. Gray. Alone.

For those whom come and go too soon,
envy the choices you decry.
And those that find spring anew again,
wish they hadn’t; still had a friend.

But they don’t.
And they won’t.

So live life ’til it takes you.
Don’t hasten it unduly.
And in time,
do not, its ending, delay;
for there is but one.
And though at times,
both seem too much,
too few,
they aren’t.

For dead is gone.
Alive, is you.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Religion, Religion

Religion religion,
you’re the neck of a pigeon
that seldom sings,
of steely decision.
Your broken wings
both brazen and bold,
tell of a story,
whose moral foretold,
that all will be glory,
lest you’re lost in the cold.

Religion religion,
If I had my way,
I’d throw you aloft,
for all the things that you say.
I’ve no doubt you’re evil,
could doubtless convey,
that religious upheaval,
is moral decay.

Religion, Religion,
Your believers of truth,
deny all the facts,
whose place seems uncouth,
in a reference outcast,
grown long in the tooth.
I hope you outlast,
your ineffable math,
cause religion’s a tool
to oppress lower-caste.

Religion Religion,
my eternal rival,
Religion Religion,
I need not your bible,
nor your prophets, nor Gods,
nor dead watchmen’s words,
for each day’s a revival,
of the Earthly absurd.

Religion, Religion,
without you I wonder,
what could we be,
if the righteous did slumber?
Religion, Religion,
My heart it does lumber,
when I think of the many,
whom you have held under.
Religion, Religion,
I’ve no more to say,
‘cept goodbye, so long,
stay out of my way.