'Judge not lest ye be judged'Every once in a while (mostly on Facebook) I come across some athiest-bashing hootsba. Every time I do, I can't help but wonder if they remember that simple line from Matthew 7:1: "Judge not lest ye be judged." It always amuses me that me, an athiest, a "heathen" can remember that when a Bible-thumper can't (or rather: chooses not to).'Judge not lest ye be judged' by GloryAngel
Crybaby-in-ChiefSo I get e-mails from democrats.org sometimes- I'm not one, but politically I lean to the left.Crybaby-in-Chief by GloryAngel
I recently recieved one that would've made me laugh out loud if I wasn't mute. As most people know, Trump lost the popular vote but won the Electoral College. Well, he's claiming everyone who didn't vote for him voted "illegally".
... I ... just ... what?
I didn't vote for him, and my vote was sure as hell legal: I'm a natural-born American citizen and I have the right to vote via the 19th Amendment. This nutjob reminds me of some people I knew once: if somebody didn't like them, it must be a conspiracy!
Don't Stoop To Their LevelRecently I got into a little spat on Facebook with one of my Facebook friends (let's call him Walter) about something he posted: he basically told religious people that when they're bowing to their god they can kiss his ass.Don't Stoop To Their Level by GloryAngel
Now I'm an athiest too, but unlike some athiests (Walter included) I believe whatever someone believes is fine. As long as they aren't hurting anyone/being a dick I really don't care. Criticizing someone for their beliefs makes you nothing more than a hypocrite.
Types of IntimacyHe told me he sleeps in a t-shirt –Types of Intimacy by SilverInkblot
and only a t-shirt. The image
won’t leave my head; this body,
so familiar to me, yet barricaded
by layers of fabric – I have never seen
the joints of his elbows, the slope
of his spine, the terrain of his
stomach – but I have felt their presence
through wool and cotton, known
their warmth in brief moments
of contact. And there’s a strange
intrigue to modesty, knowing his
psychology but not his physique.
I have found strength in his words
and wisdom in his hands; I have plunged
these depths past fondness and into
familiarity and found, here, in the dark
of his ocean, that I can see better
than ever before.
The Third SiblingI don’t know why I assumedThe Third Sibling by SilverInkblot
it would be a boy. Intuition,
maybe. Or perhaps, little
brothers were all I knew.
My third sibling paused
in the first trimester
and never hit play: a frozen
picture on the ultrasound.
Mom came home, stole
to bed, and shut the door
with a clack soft as thunder.
My third sibling is a silence,
forgotten outside the quiet
moments alone, when I wonder
what his name was.