A million philosophical debates…

None bring us closer to the truth.

YouTube says, “Debate with postmodernists effectively,”

Like the Postmodernists were a group of organized defectors.

Rather, I would not debate a postmodernist, because you cannot.

Any truth would be pushed aside by their all consuming desire

To not understand a sentence.

For, that is what postmodernism is, is rejecting the meaning of what someone said,

And then circumventing it with sophistic remarks dismissing the truth claim.

Same with an atheist, who uses Science.

It must be logically positive.

Never to see the religion they are criticizing,

Having done the simple rudimentary thing

That Grass came before sunlight…

This makes them lose faith.

How? I don’t know…

I believe in an all powerful God.

Can God lie?

Is it a lie to paint the grass in the painting before the sun?

Or is it at all pertinent that an author never edit their work?;

Any writer can understand that.

What kind of picture does it present,

To be morally outraged at God because of science?

Furthermore, why are Christians obsessed with this “Worldview” nonsense?

Everything is “Worldview” and “Worldview.”

They’ve neatly categorized everyone within a “Worldview”.

My worldview is that God exists, and He is Jesus.

Must I stop believing in evolution?

If I must, I will.

For, it seems that all evolution is is mortal combat

A giant race to the bottom,

And blood and monkeys.

I do not ascribe to it because it is far to depressing.

But, atheists squandor that fact,

By going around in circles providing evidence for morality

When their evidence is that there is no morality.

Then they call modus ponen a circular argument…

When in fact, their definition for morality is weak

And is indeed circular.

For, the definition of morality is what morals are,

That is someone’s beliefs.

Some people’s morals are to cook an infant in turtle soup.

I don’t know if you know this,

But I don’t find that all too moral.

And then blatantly, we know morals exist

And are not subjective…

But, they twofold prove their ignorance by saying,

“Morals are Subjective, therefore they exist.”

Quite the contrary, morals are not subjective.

Observing a roach frozen with liquid nitrogen

Is not, what we could call, natural.

But it is possible.

Same thing with a man’s morals,

Which are far more paramount,

Because the moral state of human beings leads to disastrous consequences.

Our current moral state being the evidence I have.

O’ writer, are you a poet or a dreamer?

Do you anger Christ and His mother Maria?

Are you one wishing to change the eon’s laws?

Are you the one who wishes to build in the cold ironforge?

Or, are you one who wishes to see the laws

All around you; nay, not to break them and bend them to thy false wills

But see them in their truth, and to praise them

And to make them understood, in their invisible strings?

 

Do you, Poet, follow the course of law

To draw forth Maria’s nard?

Or do you, Dreamer, follow the course of what ought

To draw forth imagination’s gall?

 

The poet brings forth from the strings of faith

To find them upon his harp.

The dreamer, he tries to climb upon the air.

Spend money just to get your google search

It’s why millions are rioting in the street.

You cannot make money,

Without having money already to spend.

And with that, it’s no wonder the whole house of cards would fall.

All night one thinks

How he spoke Word;—

To chew until the mind fell asleep.

To inspire the same in others

It would be too much the dream come true.

 

To write a word, in strong verse

That one man, or woman, or child

Drank deep.

 

How I wish I could be the Doctor of Listening.

The grief that much wisdom was spoken

But I could not find it all in this short life of mine.

Grief, subtle sadness, that it exists…

Awesome is the impasse of our fellowminds.

 

To speak into the ether

Where none were listening;—

I realize the Earth didn’t need a great poet.

It needed a hearkener.

Oh blank page

Before my eyes

You stand a canvas ready.

What shall I place upon you?

What color?

Golden Rod, Peridot,

Mauve or Eggshell Blue?

Shall I take the Goldenrod and make a sun?

Shall I take the Peridot and make some grass?

Shall I take the Mauve and make dusk’s hue

Upon the Eggshell sky waning

Behind?

Shall I take my brush and mix the colors

To make subtle shades of shadows with the mauve

To make blue with goldenrod shadows

Upon the mauven cloud,

Dark at dusk’s meet.

 

Shall I then tuck the sun beneath the horizon

Shaded in the Mauven sky, the golden rod touching the clouds

The grass fiery with the jewelry-rain?

 

Writing is my canvas.

For I can make the scene far more beautiful

With my words than with a brush.

Lay open vestibule of our greatest minds,

Upon the lap of the only man in a quarter century

To open thy door, and see thy cataract.

The strophe and antistrophe

Which haven’t a soul

To espouse Grecian category’s empty words;

No, but to me you mean the top and bottom

Of those flawless chemicals of geometry;

A cataract, just like the Great Falls of Buffalo.

Am I the only man to see it for a quarter century?—

How so austere at first

It dances around my eyes,

The ugly ink and plain words.

Yet, it is perfect in meaning.

 

How does a man explain poetry

To those who never drink from its mousse?

It merely tells us what rests beyond all artifice

Into the meaning of these things

We might never take a passing glance.

Waterfalls might have a certain chemical,

Something between Geometry and Stars,

But do those chemicals have meaning?

Or, does the meaning create the chemicals?

 

A man who feels truth is very deceived,

Yet, if one could see the pure feeling of Niagara Falls

That my sinful self could not appreciate…

I will remember the feeling later, at a second glance

In a poem nobody has read for over twenty years.

And that is why I know there is sin.

That is why I know there is such foulness.

I can know the feeling then and now

Both the same, but then I would not chew upon it.

Today, without beholding what my eyes had once seen,

I can see it once again, and in that sight,

Understand what sin truly was.

A lie we tell ourselves to spoil what is good and right before our eyes.

Then, later, one meditates on it from afar,

Without the beauty before flesh’s eyes.

O Masons lay thy bricks of stone

To build your archways and causeways

To build your temperate domes.

The structure was grand.

However, among the stones

There lay a stone oddly shaped,

Which had a strange appearance

And no goodly form.

The masons laid their brick

Casting the oddly shaped stone

Over their shoulders.

 

Soon, the architecture was perfect,

The building’s scaffolding tall,

But it had one structural weakness.

The builders looked over the gap

Where the corner stone needed laid.

No stone fit.

Yet, lying on the marble tiles

Was the stone the builders rejected.

They took it, gazed upon it,

And saw it perfectly fit in the gap.

A strong stone,

A tried stone, and a true stone.

It bore all the weight of the dome and the arches.

 

It soon came that renovators needed to rebuild the structure.

They poked and prodded,

Wishing to do their renovations just.

They examined all of the foundations,

All of the scaffolding.

It all only needed minor renovations.

Nothing so grand or more than plastering and some buttressing.

Yet, they came to the corner stone

Which held the dome and arches.

It was a homely little stone

So the builders wished to replace it

With a gem.

 

They removed the stone

And placed their own, fresh cut stone of ruby into the gap.

However, the ruby did not quite fit.

Nor was it the perfect shape like the other stone was.

No matter how well did the masons cut their stone

The piece could not fit.

 

Soon the arches began to sag

The dome began to buckle

The foundation began to shift from the heavy burden of the dome and archways.

The ruby stone could not hold the weight of the structure.

So, the masons looked once again on the stone they had rejected,

Seeing it could still yet fit into the gap.

They did so, and it stopped the damage from altogether getting worse.