I was a Jehovah’s Witness – No Blood Transfusion My Ass

What would you do to save your child’s life? Anything? Everything? As parents, it is not only our job to protect our young, but love moves us to do so innately. Would you sacrifice your child like the biblical Abraham was willing to do? Would you sacrifice your son for strangers like the Christian god did for the masses? Are you willing to do that right now if asked to do so? Where do you draw the line in the name of religion?

Please listen to my testimony and let me know what you would have done.

The Power of a Loving Alchemist

Her heart was repeatedly shattered.
Pieces of it scattered.
Never to be mended, forever fractured.
Fragments of her incense never to be found.
Some in the attics of people’s past, locked and bound.
A wilting beat, a dying drum…a fading sound.

 

An alchemist stepped into her world, daggers hurled.
Her sharp edges a warning,
to keep him from exploring.
Within the wilted corridors of her dusty soul, the past flows.
Hopeful doors leading nowhere. Thoughts that cannot be closed.
He dodges her black clouds and scary crows.

 

He listens to her echoing cries
Over his affections she’s agonized.
In matters of love, life has been unfair.
Resonating sounds of lonely despair.
He gathers her tears, sorrows, lies and fears.
Collecting remnants of her nightmares to expel them someplace, somewhere.

 

Wielding his alchemical still
he melds her parts, he uses his skill.
Her rusted heart he refines to gold.
He values her life, he treasures her soul.
Bringing her out of darkness is his goal.
With his elixir he extracts her beauty and beholds her worth.
She’s found her light and heaven on earth

 

— The Pretty Platform

Trapped in the Quicksand of Love

Here’s something a bit different. Actually, very different. I’ve been challenging my writing with stabs at… Poetry! I sometimes need to step out of my comfort zone, away from my safety net and this definitely makes me feel both vulnerable and somewhat uncomfortable. I’ll be posting them up regularly. Let me know your thoughts. Be honest (honestly) since like I said, this is supposed to be a challenge. (But if it’s accolades you want to bestow upon me, well, who am I to stop you).

 

Love was your mask.
Bitterness disguised.
Not ever genuine.
Our kinship and bloodline
you compromised, sacrificed.

Love was your hold on me.
Frequently misused and confused.
Your self-appointed power.
A reign you abused.

Suffocated in your excuses.
I was left breathless,
mute, expressionless.
My inner self insignificant.
An outer shell, lifeless
For you to possess.

You never saw me.
You never cared for me.
You used love to guilt me.

I listened to your words.
Read between the lines.
You’d convince her to never birth me
if you could turn back time.
You alone,
to shine in her eyes.

You torture me
for the love you never felt.
You blame me.
You shame me.
You nail me
to the cross
for the life you couldn’t help.

My heart trusted you
gold-plated
served on a platter.
I hoped for you.
She asked me to.
None of it ever mattered.

Now empty and buoyant
Exhausted and depleted
One day I’m to rise above.
Until then I remain static
to avoid drowning
in your quicksand of love.

— The Pretty Platform