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Friday, April 20, 2012

Just Like You

You claimed I did not understand you,
but you left because you know I do.

I know every nuance of your sickness,
how you crave and need your next thrill,
the power of being so much wanted,
the excuse that it is because you are ill.

There was danger in your great passion,
there were tears when you were ashamed,
when you knew that you were repeating
the same pattern again, again and again.

Too many times, now, to remember,
and that only adds to your remorse;
layer upon layer of regret and sadness,
leading inexorably to a bitter divorce.

You claimed I did not understand you,
but you left because you sensed that I do.

When at last I sought to interdict,
and coax you, in honesty, to confess,
that is when your resolve faltered,
the very next day is when you left.

You claimed it was because you love me,
said I deserved to have the very best,
and with you love would not matter,
said your leaving was at God's behest.

Of course I understood that you were lying,
I know the need to be both victim and savior,
the truth is your next thrill was waiting,
your next conquest, your latest flavor.

You told me I did not understand you;
the more frightening truth is, you know that I do.
And had your courage allowed the asking,
you would have learned that I, once, was just like you.

So you claimed I did not understand you,
but you left because you know damn well, I do.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Transistors

We all can do it.
There's really nothing to it.
We all were created for one reason alone,
to be the aperature through which God flows.

It does not require that you try, or even believe;
you don't need faith, although that is a key.
You are the faucet of God's great love,
releasing it slowly to prevent a great flood.

God's love is power, radiant energy unbound,
too much at once, and the world might drown;
so God created regulators to control the release,
individual transistors to tamp down the heat.

We are the transfer medium that manifests love,
we control miracles flowing down from above.
Just like a transistor, we are an energy gate,
transmitting God's power as either love, or hate.

The secret is that there is no secret;
plant an acorn and see what tree you get;
it is our nature, the reason for our creation,
we cannot deny or prevent our participation.

Nor should we let ourselves become deluded,
we are not ourselves God, but the path that He uses.
Just like the oak cannot claim to be the whole earth,
we do not own divinity; we cannot hold it in our purse.

Miraculous power, however, we can and do wield,
like planting a seed in a vast, fertile field,
that to which we give our heart and our desire
is that which will manifest 'ere we expire.

The prophet named Jesus said it the best,
the kingdom is inside you, at your behest,
and neither dogma nor doctrine can explain or delay
the mystery of God's children, His power relay.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

If I Could

I would heal you if I could,
take away the pain you feel
and give you blessed peace.

If I could.

I would defend your honor,
so that you would no longer
feel shame for past indiscretions.

If I could, I would.

God knows, I have prayed for you,
laying in my bed in the dark,
speaking your name to His heart,
asking him to grant you all you need.

I would give it all to you, if I could.

If only I could.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Thursday, April 19, 2012

The Legacy of Ayn

To rise so high,
and yet feel so low,
that is the curse of
life in this modern world.

To have so much,
yet possess so little,
that is the plight
facing us all today.

We live surrounded
by surplus and wealth,
yet so little of it can
nourish us in our souls.

We are content to allow
injustice in the world,
as long as our square acre
goes unmolested.

We turn a blind eye as
the privileged claim to be the pious,
and the poor are expected
only to nod their self-hating assent.

If I were a courageous man
I would clamor for revolution,
I would breach the walls of Sodom,
and break Gomorrah's foundation.

If I were a holy man,
I would pray for God's justice
to roll down from heaven
like waters across a plain.

But I am neither.
I am a modern man,
living a life of quiet desperation,
satisfied to see others suffer
while stuffing my overfed maw.

The prophetess who denied God,
Ayn Rand, the darling of those
who call themselves conservative,
and Christian,
would see the poor mown down like grass.

She would overturn a religion of compassion
founded upon the sacrifice of a son.

Her legacy is this modern world,
this unjust economy,
this empty soul,
this collapsing nation,
and this modern man.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012