If Not For Your Love

If it were not for you

I would die here,

If it were not for your unfailing promises

I would perish in an instant

For your words nourish me

Day and night

And when I fail to find your words

The silence will surely kill me,

If it were not for you

I would already be dead

If it were not for your unfailing promises

I would already have perished in an instant.


I’m white. I’m a male. I’m a soft spoken writer. I suck at spoken word. I’m completely vulnerable. With a trembling voice only spoken in whispers, I stand up and renounce silence. This video is my protest.

Yes, I should have been at the protest protesting the protest. I should have been one of the one’s ran over and murdered. Maybe then, when there is an immediate crisis that is aimed that close to home, people who dismiss this event as irrelevant would face a moral dilemma over their own silence and lack of voice.

Truly yours,

Raven Dude



This spoken word of Martin Luther King Jr. quotes is directly relevant to the current events happening in Charlottesville, Virginia.  It also falls in line with my religious poems, oddly timed.  MLK was an American Baptist minister.


Battle Lines

I wrote this poem almost as a modern day rebuke.  It is not singularly applied towards one religion, but instead, focuses on a warning.  The tone measures most accurately to that out of the Torah, when Moses confronted Pharaoh and the Egyptians about the enslavement of the Israelites (Exodus).  Secondary to this, we have the book of Judges in Judaism (and in the Old Testament in Christianity), where God would turn his back on his people after they sinned, delivering them into the hands of their enemies, and the people would receive a firm rebuke.

Honestly, it was written with injustice in mind, internment camps we have seen throughout history have always been by default a curse of evil, whether the Nazis camps for the Jews, Stalin’s gulag in Russia, the United States internment camps for Japanese-Americans (World War II),  or modern day Israel, where many Palestinians are forced to “live”, and where there are clear human rights violations, murder, or outright genocide taking place.

If I missed any specifics, please feel free to comment, I wanted to provide a few examples of, by definition, what I meant by “camps” and the examples listed are in no way exhaustive or complete.

Battle Lines

Whoa to you that persecute others

Because of the land

The land whose blood was shed with the forefathers of both your tribes

You wander and wait

And now enact borders and camps

These borders continue to expand

And death remains inside the camps

When were you asked to enact these tones of death against your brothers,

When were you told to starve the innocents

To take away another man’s shelter

To create aliens in the land of plenty

When you sit below your roof

With food and the countenance of many

The battle lines are being drawn

The camps shall not wait

And the aliens in your own land now rebel

Take heed and be steadfast

This is a warning.

The Golden Idol

I admit, there are a lot of poems I have written containing references to a “temple”.  This is meant to not only mean a literal temple, but also the temple inside all of us: the temple that houses the soul inside every woman and man.

Woe to you that finds happiness

For your proverbial stature shall diminish

Until it is the very temple that you have trampled upon

A desolate temple in ruins

Looking at a false idol

One that will never nourish the soul

A golden idol

A beautiful idol nonetheless

Passed down from generation to generation

A bull

Built by culture to be worshiped

To never learn the tongues of the remnants of Babel,

You find yourself wanting to join the Ecclesiastical lion in the dirt

Banished from society

Friends and family

You now survive off apples and honey

You bring gifts

Not of this world

But from your temple

And I take them with joy in my face

And lies and contempt in my heart

And sadness for your own temple

To which the gifts will now join me

And the Ecclesiastical lion in the dirt

The dirt to which my temple’s foundations were shaken.

Impressions of God

God is like the impression of the painting

You last saw

Absorbed in an abstract

Construction of an image

Which is a collection of thoughts


He is intent on knowing your soul

Connecting emotionally


With vibrations

Of the atoms

Of your being.


Photo Courtesy: Captured at the Minneapolis Institute of Art

Graven Images

I was born into madness

And from it I sprang to life,

Now enslaved and my temple destroyed

I write to you in a fit of revelation,

If I was trained in your ways

And by your sword

Then by this training shall I use these weapons against my very enemies,

The enemies who now seek vengeance and my death

Or conversion

Will change me back to an image they once knew

An idol that I may worship again

A character devoid of meaning,

They will argue

There is no meaning other than this image

And from it

Will my character be destroyed,

In the temple of this graven image

I bow down to this god

Who for centuries has been placed at the center of worship and slain many

A name, to which above all else

Shall be worshiped by those that follow a way

And if not then

Then by the sword that leads to death.


Photo Courtesy: Captured at the Minneapolis Institute of Art

Gate Of Heaven

Time is the breaking up of eternity

A touch of the hand

Subtle nuances become your holiest of holy

And at the door

The judgement seat

Is the ultimate discernment

Gate of heaven


Door of the gods

Sanctuary where disorientation

Subjective experiences

And mysterious signs


From an outcry.



A quick one I wrote on the metro today before work.  I apologize last night I was upgrading and tweaking my site with fresh drop down menus to quickly access poems via their respective categories.  Thank you for your patience.


Take off all symbols

Before death

Prepare for birth

And new life.

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: