Archive for the ‘Hoping For Some Hope’ Category

You pray,

you believe,

you hope.

Life goes on,

people suck you dry.

You get disenchanted,

disappointed

and exhausted.

You pray,

you try to believe,

you want to remember

what hope felt like.

One day you give up.

Soon, you will die.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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Privet, Pripyat.

Tainted Earth,

long before ’86

Adam and Eva fell

(vice versus versa,

we’re in this together).

Indeed,

we all fall,

human beings disgrace,

yesterday, today, infinity,

stained,

no hope,

but perchance

pray

miraculous

Grace.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Open Kiska.

Open Minds.

Thinking.

Meditating.

Believing.

Miracles.

Believing possible.

Bearing Fruit.

Beautiful,

Golden Apples of Hesperides.

Have Faith.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

She wasn’t the most attractive child.

In fact, her vibe was typical arrogant teenager.

I felt an immediate dislike,

as I watched her walk by,

waiting for the lights to change.

But somehow

something suddenly clicked in me,

and I saw this girl for what she actually was,

a creation…

Imperfect,

perhaps,

but infinitely more complex

and better than anything else her parents could have mustered

(think crappy woodwork projects).

Indeed, a real, live creation…

The thought bounced around in my head,

and suddenly I felt the urge to procreate.

The hope of humanity

was stirred in me.

Whereas yesterday,

I had scorned the refugees

who gave birth in warzones

(Imagine bringing life into such hell!),

now

I got it…

The fundamental human need to bring forth new life,

The ultimate in works,

Creation,

Hope,

God in us,

God through us.

Life goes on.

Somehow.

©ddr7hd

The light plays tricks on your eyes.

It was the first time I’d looked out of a window for a while.

I smiled as I gazed upon the majesty of a mighty eagle perched nearby.

Wow… Inspiration. A sign from God?

There is hope.

I blinked, my eyes a little sore, unaccustomed to the light.

Then I saw reality,

it was a fat pigeon,

and then, after a second or two,

even that was gone.

 

©ddr7hd

 

Today, tomorrow, yesterday,

totally non-linear,

open your heart and you will see,

it’s Christmas

every day.

Hope is born,

Grace dawns,

indeed,

in faith,

in fact.

Let us contemplate…

Let us consider…

Peace,

please…

Love,

the celestial view.

And

as Earth orbits the Sun,

Pray, the Son will rise in you.

 

The preacher has two main churches:

one in the capital of the South,

one in New York City,

the capital of Capitalism.

I was in town, so as to speak,

and,

having seen the preacher on TV,

opportunity and providence aligned,

I went to a sermon.

I was engaged by the Word,

the preacher was in a rich vein,

congregation inspired,

motivated,

righteously hyped.

Then after an hour,

the preacher said a few banal words,

basely suggesting: “offering time”.

Buckets were passed around,

as hands reached into pockets and purses,

and the vibe changed from holy expectation to human desperation.

(Buy your blessing!

Don’t be shy…

Small plastic trinkets available in the foyer, only $49.99, plus tax…)

Strange.

I’d thought New Yorkers would be more “sophisticated”,

cynical, one might say.

Turns out they’re just as desperate to believe as everybody else.

 

Appreciation,

for who we are, what we bring,

value, love, increase.

Appreciation:

fundamental human need,

without it we decrease,

collectively, individually,

we wither, die…

 

I pulled the book from the shelf.

“You believe that shit?” the voice from behind asked, accused.

“Uh, I’ve got faith,” I replied, surprised.

“Prosperity gospel bullshit.”

I turned around to face the man, he was black, overweight, tired-looking and cynical, giving me the impression of a lifetime of disappointment. Nonetheless, there was something about him, a residual spunk, a certain spark in the embers of his eyes. He raised his left eyebrow, looking at the cover of the book, then looked straight into my eyes, unblinking.

Seconds passed. He was waiting for me to speak, maybe he wanted the satisfaction of an argument. I hardly felt equipped to be the voice of hope.

“Well, I believe in God: the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. And I don’t see any point in believing in a God who doesn’t love me or want the best for me. Grace and peace, sure, and why not physical prosperity too? It’s not just about money. I hope I can find happiness in this life.”

“You still waiting, huh, I can see it in your eyes, like me,” he nodded as he spoke, knowingly.

“Yeah, I’m still waiting.”

“Meantime, I hope you ain’t been giving all your money to these people, trying to buy your slice of the promise,” he smiled briefly, emphasizing the word *promise*.

“No.” I shook my head and smiled in return.

“Don’t you forget it. Go well.” He turned around and walked out the bookstore.

I put the book back on the shelf and wondered about the difference between belief and faith.

 

Obeying my body and soul,

I opt out,

for a season or three,

I need peace,

screw your outward pretences,

fuck society’s ideas,

this is me,

here.

The moment

and the existence of life,

perchance to sleep and dream,

is,

indeed,

close enough,

I say,

to

the right stuff.

The essential, personal rapture,

no one else understands.