Some questions about the Bible

1. What about all of the people who lived before Christ? They had no chance for salvation- did God decide they were not good enough?

2. Why are there countless descriptive accounts of Hell, but none of Heaven? We know of the 7 layers of hell, the various methods of eternal torment, but nothing of heaven besides "merry and happy were thee."

3. How could the bible be written by Jesus' apostles when most of them are proven to have been illiterate? 10% of the ancient world around the time of Jesus could read- even less could transcribe letters- and even less could compose original thoughts and articulate those thoughts through letters. Also, the new testament was written in Greek, but many of the apostles (such as Peter) spoke Aramaic.

Races and Places

I am a Boscottish, New Yorussian, Carolinative American, Atlitalian Florijew!

aka. Bosyorkidatlacaromutt

Dreams and Ramblings

Why are things so clear in those waking, distilled moments of darkness and initial fear? Dreams speak something slow and strong to the spirit that confuses and illuminates. Those fleeting insights into a mind untidy, thoughts confused or centered, verging on the realms of absurd are what few illuminations our consciousness' dare reveal. Yet their purpose seems archaic and ineffectual, if the thoughts so readily expressed by the subconscious is obscure and misunderstood by the brain of reality.

Maybe I'm rambling, and maybe that's OK. Isn't the point to ramble on until we find where we're going? And if we didn't ramble, how would we know that where we end up isn't truly where we were meant to be?

Why I am a Picky Eater

I hate fungi
(at least in a non-psychedelic capacity)
I hate cheese made from sheep or goat milk
(with wool in the brain and tang on the tongue)
I hate tomatoes
(at least in the gelatinous, porous state)
I hate berries
(with seeds in tooth gaps and texture gritty with sweet)

I love lima beans
(so bland and soft and unobtrusive)
I love milk
(with patriotic farms on the brain and cream in the throat)
I love garlic
(at least in the non-offensive, splash of zest state)
I love bananas
(delicate in cheek gabs and texture soft with sweet)

I hate the gritty, tangy, gelatinous and seeded.
Like a plane crash at 10,000 feet altitude over a field of prickled wheat
I love the soft, creamy, unobtrustive and delicate.
Like a pillow of satin over a field of mossy clouds.

late night tea and
a cinnamon spun thread-
winding and woven,
crimson pale red.

So soon
again
and yet
why not?

She says
"The world is over!"
I say
"Hrm?"
She says
"The world is over!"
I say
"No...why?"
She smiles
and walks away.

I get on tangents, hard to break, like the soul will decompose if I stop for just one second to change course.