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If there’s
God on your nickel or on your dime,
There’s a
Satan on its back each time,
Though you
might never see it there,
You can
grant it will be hid somewhere.
It doesn’t
do much good to pray
‘Cause both
sides hear it, anyway;
So, tell me,
which is it you claim,
By giving
both of them God’s name?
Light and
Darkness: Black and White.
Day and
night.
All stars or
one of our own.
Emptiness is
something gone.
Man and
Woman: Seed and corpse.
Cultivated
and the Wild.
Sperm versus
Child.
Plantation
and the Forest.
Frigid hot
or mild.
Life and
Death: Predator and Prey.
Destroy and
Create,
The Best and
the Worst,
Affirm and
Negate.
Forward/Reverse.
Open and
Close.
Before and
After.
On and Off.
Basement
Floor and Rafter.
It’s
opposites we’re after.
Wealth and
Poverty.
Rich and
poor.
Loss and
Gain.
Debtor and
creditor.
Comfort and
Pain.
Love and
Hate.
Defend/Attack.
Food or
bait.
Vicious and
Friendly.
Gone and
Back.
Good and
Evil.
Right and
Wrong.
Neither here
nor there.
A funny sad
song.
Information
and Deceit:
Truth in the
form of fiction,
Lies in the
form of facts.
Truth and
Lies.
Science and
religion.
Reality and
acts.
The
uncertain and the sure.
Fables and
Facts.
Correct and
errant.
Heaven and
Hell.
Up and down.
Aroma and
smell.
Straight and
Round.
God and
Satan.
The
tarnished and the pure.
One without
the other will never be found.
Which is
which is which is which is which is which is which is which is which is
which is which is which is which is which is which is which is which is
which is which is which is which is which is which is which is which is
which is which is which is which is which is which is which is which is
which is which is which is which is which is which is which is which…is
which?
So, whose
god rides in a Cadillac?–
Whose god
drives a Lincoln with a devil in the back?
Whose god is
pure, Whose god is good?
What evil
god does What God should?
It all
depends on our point of view:
What’s good
for me is Bad for you!
So, what is
virtue? What is pure?
There’s only
one answer that’s sure:
The best
path o’er this Earth is trod
By those who
Worship nary God.
————————————————————
Memes
by Lloyd Harrison Whitling
————————————————————
You don’t
believe in memes.
I don’t
believe in God.
Neither was
ever seen,
So, I don’t
think that’s so odd.
God is just
a Meme,
And I
believe in them.
If you
disbelieve in memes,
How can you
believe in Him?
So, don’t
discredit me
And I won’t
argue with you.
I’ll let you
contradict yourself
If it’s that
easy to do.
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Whenever you get done doing what you want to do,
And what everyone has told you that you ought to
do,
Trying to straighten out our lives
While wading through all the advice
That people give husbands and wives,
One small second makes more difference
Than all the other things we do
To keep alive the feeling
Of the love between us two;
For the deed in that small second
Is what keeps it on our mind.
So, just stop!—
For any second is the only one you’ll find;
And all you have to do is listen
While I tell you I love you,
And then smile while you tell me
How much you love me, too.
——————————————————
How Does the World Get Around?
by Lloyd Harrison Whitling
How does the
world get around,
When there
is no God to be found?
It gets
along just fine,
When we
treat each other kind,
And help
each other when we’re down.
How does the
world get around
When most
people think like a clown?
If we must
invent our memes
From the
voices hid in dreams,
How does our
crippled world get around?
_______________________________________
Death’s Door
by Lloyd Harrison Whitling
————————————————————
She clung to
me tightly all night.
We hoped
things would turn out alright,
But I am
just a man, after all:
Old, and
often I hear that chilled call,
And find
myself at Death’s Door.
Once again,
at Death’s Door.
Well, it
seems I escaped once again,
And now
everything’s on the mend.
It looks
like I will have a few days
Before, once
again, I will say,
"Here I am
at Death’s Door.
"Once again,
at Death’s Door."
I try to
turn a deaf ear,
And try not
to tremble in fear,
But, too
often I’m lost once again
In places
I’ve already been,
Thinking,
while I still live,
There’s a
lot of good left I could give.
Could I look
up, just once more,
And find
myself not at Death’s Door.
Life would
become meaningless,
To be
designed other than this;
And we could
go on without end,
To places
where we’ve never been.
This way, if
we ever feel bored,
We have a
way out, through Death’s door.
We don’t
think that will happen, do we?
We will
never feel bored, you and me,
We have too
much to do, both of us,
To have time
to raise such a fuss!—
But still,
like all those gone before,
One day we
won’t turn from Death’s Door.
_______________________________________
Mother Nature, Father Time
by Lloyd Harrison Whitling
————————————————————
"Mother
Nature and Father Time
Both are
friends of mine . . .
I've known
not enough of them,
Tho' both
were everywhere I've been.
In all the
stories I've been told,
Throughout
this life, where I've grown old,
Mother
Nature, Father Time,
Both were
always friends of mine."
-- L. H. Whitling 7/6/2004 -- "
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