
Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness.
Allen Ginsberg
steve a. manolis poet
Passion of Hate
Where would we be,
if we loved with the passion
As much as hate?
What would we know
If we ignored the whims
Of religious righteousness
And glorified our own being
And cherished our lives
As much as we hate?
What is it that we hate In ourselves,
that we cannot love
our sexuality,
our divine truth,
our compassion?
Where is our sensibility?
What will the vestige
Of our existence
Stand for
If we cannot stand for ourselves?
We hate with too much ease
Or are we too stuck in our own morals
Of our own ill-defined humanity.
Or is this too, the course we want to be?