Jim Kabot
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Jim Kabot
@jimkabot.bsky.social
410 followers 230 following 22 posts
A little poetry, politics and a brand new religion.
Nothing complicated, just fun.
Damn the Christians Who Have Disgraced Their King
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The Whisperings of Angels
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From "Damn the Christians"
December 3, 2025 at 3:43 PM
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August 18, 2025 at 6:52 PM
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July 10, 2025 at 1:15 AM
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From "Damn The Christians"
"The Devil of darkness" a poem from "Damn The Christians"
June 12, 2025 at 7:27 PM
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April 7, 2025 at 6:33 PM
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From the Whisperings of Angels
Like the floating ice of the northern seas, she sits forlorn, lost in an age of uncertainty. This Angel of Solitude, she doesn’t sin, but neither does she ever seem to win. And the righteous blush of her daring, all too soon fades away to uncaring. Her children cry in her loneliness, never knowing the reason why, not realizing her fate, until it is much too late.
February 8, 2025 at 7:00 PM
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An atheist with compassion, is a Christian with a simpler vision.
The Little Mystery On the Hill There is a little Christian, looking at the sky. High above there is a god, a god who loves the Christian. He has an image in his mind, a hero on a throne. A god who loves, he alone. And he himself, loves him back, which is, as it should be, at least as far as he can see. There is a little Atheist, looking at the sky. High above there is a cloud, full of rain and snow. For good or bad that cloud will be, and what will fall, no god of yours can know. He is completely sure as well, no god of yours loves him. But then again, neither he, nor this other god, turns a smile towards me. There is a little man of wisdom, sitting upon a hill. He sits there very quietly, and watches this theme unfold. The Christian creates a god to love, and the Atheist, one to doubt. But the creations of each man, are only a reflection of their miseries. An image much smaller than the imagination, of each of these humble creators. But sitting on the hill as well, next to the little man of wisdom, is a little man of Buddha, watching his dream foretold. He joyfully laughs at this little man of wisdom, who wonders, what is God. Then he softly whispers, “the Buddha knows no God.” There is a little breeze, that blows across the hills, and it lightly touches ever man that stands within its path. At the bottom of the hill, both the Christian and his friend, stop looking at the sky. They both look at each other and say, “Why has the time gone by, shouldn’t we be on our way?” And the little man of Buddha, touched by the breeze as well, stops looking at the scene grow cold. He turns to the little man of wisdom, and asks him what he knows. And the little man of wisdom, joyfully laughs, at this little man of Buddha, and says, “I guess the silence, left by the little breeze, that touches every man, also knows no God.” Blow breezes, blow, for even the whisper of the breeze, is a Mystery.
January 6, 2025 at 12:59 AM
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December 13, 2024 at 11:00 PM