Mortal Eyes - Humanist, Carl Hancock Rux, Joel Cadbury

Excavations of unexcavated histories

Digging up black and blue mysteries

Past as present as prescient coherent liturgy

Harking back to some incoherent Sigmund Freud reaching for adherents

Y’all be seeing religion malignant religious social forces

As ways out ghettos like cowboys riding horses

Kneeling down to crosses, crying over losses

Irrational thought comes with economic forces

What survives and thrives more than one hundred thousand years of history

Ain’t a mystery to the mind that tries to see with the third eye

A whole lotta dead boys and a whole lotta lost girls

Are swimming through their tears here

In this place we call the now

So how you gonna get out of the place you embrace as home

Your fears ain’t even rooted in the neuroscience of the mind

You sighing thru time lying to yourself

About who you is and who you ain’t

Latter day saints of many aliases

Revealed to the God incarnate

Bestowed upon the surreal infinite

Occult of pseudo-teachings

Preaching about what bears no resemblance to truth

Who you think you oughtta be

Some sorta prophet of humanity

Imbued with self-sufficiency

Successfully ignorant in your militancy?

Out of one God comes many if any…

You ain’t trying to hear this truth

Today I stray from the doctrine of the lie

Today you stay in the toxin of a forgotten cry

Today I weigh in on the teaching of an irrefutable catechism

Today you bathe in the cesspool of a regurgitated schism

Reemerged on the other side of conversations and prisons of theology

Who you want to be when you grow up?

What you gonna say when you throw up?

Your hands to the poor righteous teachers

And poor dacrosant disbelievers

Who got their guns in your mouth

Strange wind blowing south of here

I fear it’s the samo samo

And all of what it used to be

Mystical traditions and hoodoo tomfoolery

Not everybody who wants

To mesmerize and proselytes

Knows the mystery of

Divine sacred knowledge

And lyrical anthropology

But you’d rather stand at the crossroads

Of the raven where still waters let the dead speak

Trying to hear what the words and don’t know the etymology

Of the dead’s terminology

Pathological sociological ritualistic behaviors

Plastic Gods, Glass ceilings meaning pyrotechnic saviors

Ain’t even trying to thrive for what

Got you high in the first place…

The last phase of eternal grace and the good days

Characterized by beliefs of what curtailed the countless

And what prevailed the doubtless

And what derailed the truthless

And what entailed the useless

What prayer you got stored away now?

And how you gonna find

A divine order to believe in

With this malignant tumor that you sceevin'?

Last night I recomposed the mystics of the Renaissance

And clarified the perspectives of a séance

Decided to go back and crack the book of the Humanist

Who started talking to me like this?

About Montaigne and Boccaccio and Ficino and Erasmus

And Diderot and Plutarch and monarchs and such

Deism to theism to atheism to see in

Dissolution of onto-theology, nephrology and elementary humanity

Lévi-Strauss questioned myths, Mary Douglas questioned this

The concepts of pollution and taboo’s hypothesis

Pascal told me the mind naturally believes and loves a falsity

Voltaire kicked in with some existential prosody

Said the reason I have for believing in something

Is not proof of the existence of the thing

So what logic you gonna bring to the table.

My absurdum?

How you gonna learn ‘em what they already know?

Seek your truth through moral eyes

All hail!

Smouldering ashes alight

Mortals rise