Truth Farmer

Muscles are aching. My body's undone.
Life's forsaking; friends, family shunned.
Why am I alone? What's the reason?
Please now be shown, why lonely season?

Dreams about Mama, ignoring my plight
That Truth Farmer, is not a fight.
But is a dear plea, a desperate hope,
To connect with thee, to somehow learn cope.

My unconscious, deep ocean place
Fights religious, barbaric face
That doesn't seek Truth, but only sameness
And makes many fools, in name of Holy bless.

I didn't create, the way things have been:
Christian's warfare, making sex a sin,
Or the Hell dogma, the childhood abuse,
But only delved & saw. Would not make excuse

For all the lies there, the inconsistencies.
I know it's unfair, and easier to kill me,
Because we were told, that it was true
And the stories old, were God through & through.

But we can still see, and learn to accept
That other lives can be; also true, correct.
As the world gets small, and other people love
Letting go our God's tall, single place above

Allows real love for all,
Not just a cruel sham.
We can get past appall,
And open real Truth's dam.


Truth Farmer
by Loveson G. Flower
Sunday morning, 8/17/97
home in bed