Equal Rights

Seasons come and go, the Earth remains the same,
and God-beliefs abide--these are the sweets to many.
Yesterday I took your call, the strict demand
the ultimatum from your lips much like a shovel-full of anthracite coal...
“Please don’t try to convince me there is no God...”

...so I would rather hear nightingales sing
than to feel the smoke and fire of inner anger, that welling of irate
when misconception dances like a fool with funny hats.
I am not filled with wisdom, yet I know what is in my mind,
so you can “believe” whatever you wish--this I said with emphasis
like shattered bones on brass cymbals (assertiveness a strength)
because this mini mystery plays out, once again, like a horrid soap opera,
wherein you spew your theist hums (“no one can tell me there is no God...”)
and eagles soar and deer glide through dew-glistened woods, and I abide
in a moonlight shadow listening with patience, patting you on the head,
so to speak, easing in my berth within my chugging train of evidence...

Thus I offer, like gentle willows, some non-theistic views,
(the fact of evolution, say, or the fact that I shoveled your drive--it wasn’t Jesus),
so I am left to conclude that you took umbrage to such blasphemies...)

My right to speak is a river, such as yours, and I am not at all concerned
at undermining faith (indeed, your faith seems shaky at best),
and you left the gate with your demand, your erroneous ultimatum
of rock and iron so days of swans, much like a sixties evening, turned
bitter, with jackals scowling.


24 Lines
Writer’s Cramp Winner
3-6-15
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Requirements:
--sweets
--mini mystery
--moonlight shadow
--sixties evening