Man-factured – Arthur Dylan Scott

The easy thing to do
would be to stay
wrapped in the divinity
of my hot bed, ignoring
the varied pressure on
my face, the excess of
oil, sweat, dead skin
and age. Instead,

I’d like to let my mind carve a course toward the eternal bliss, contemplating
events far up Time’s great stream, things of wonder that shape our day to day,
unlike the people who stand on government platforms and tell the world what
they should fear, dictating what is abominable according to the Good Book, and
of how the Creator made things a certain way, which they twist into the only way.

I am not an abomi-
nation. I am written

by the same Author
whose only son
was murdered by
religious traditionalists
that could not suffer
their systems of power
to be upset, this is the
Darkness that crushed
the physical manifestation
of Love until He
suffocated on a cross.

Crosses are terrifying
things, are they not?
Devices of torture
used at length in
both BC and AD.

How can wearing an execution method inspire peace and love

in the onlooker? I see with different eyes, an icon man-
ufactured to inflict a certain sort of fear,

purposed to control.