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Sinners and Saints

If we rudely barge into God's domain,
to read the script of Sinners and Saints;
if the worth of a man is measured in death and pain,
then Sinners and Saints are one and the same.

To one he gave wings and called a Dove,
and men gaze upon it and think of peace and love,
to another, he gave wings and called a Bat,
we looked with trepidation and a cheerless heart.

If men are judged by other men and not their worth,
and their breath and sweat are toils with no aim,
if destiny was sown at Earth's sacred birth,
then Sinners and Saints are not to blame.

One called him Sinner another called him Saint,
we are Angel or Demon if love or hate should paint,
but if should I in a fair mind try to decide, alas,
and try as I might, I suffer the fate of Buridan's ass.

Once they whispered his name with hallowed fondness,
once they painted him in whiteness and nary a taint,
once they called him Maestro, Conqueror,
none is remembered when now he's Sinner not Saint.

Sinners and Saint are one and the same,
Men of different creeds bear witness to this claim,
who in one creed is worshiped as glorious Saint,
the same in another bears a Sinner's scarlet stain.

Should I before the Lord humbly stand,
the answer to my questions I'll demand,
to set my mortal mind at ease,
“dear Lord, what makes us Sinners or Saints?”


*****July 4, 2010*****


- this poem was written after the Black Stars Heart breaking defeat to Uruguay



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Finding God

The inexplicable
Is proof there's a God.

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Is where doubt began.
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Then, God is
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The God Killer.

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And his people perish
For lack of knowledge
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More than we did yesterday

Then it stands to reason
That the God to believe in
Is an ever-expanding explosion of knowledge.

I have no faith
In the God of gaps
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*****April 22, 2017*****