KIVOrg

Often read the quibbles of Karl Marx in the pursuit of what eventually turned out to be Marxism. Importantly, those ideas could hinge on socialism and Communism in the loosed sense. However, striking on his lines of extensive arguments are his stampede on the bad vagaries of religion and the cache of surplus value. These made excellent read for many young readers, scholars and members of the intellectual world. Karl Marx was unappreciative of the underhand of religion. For him, religious practices have made lilliputians of giants and have tremendously decapitated good reasoning from the people. It was for this reason that his popular maxim that "religion is the opium of the masses" held the winds at a time within readers. Of course, when you begin to atomize or analyze issues with religious concerns, you will begin to realize how sentimentally held religious axioms have usurped the thinking capacity of humans and practitioners of these sect beliefs and have rendered them inca

Don't dare dread me Soothing sounds of soul Gently jamming jim jim Healing and hurting hearts Candid calls craving calm Waning warrior willing to win Rising root's reason or strength  The power of eros Deeming mild the wild Whittle of warriors and wolves  Casting blind, sharpest sights Devouring beauty in hearts Damning daring dangers Shunning shame or shock Lifting the weakest to awe Maiming the mightiest How has she done this?  Thou symbol of peace Quiescence of the noisiest Vaining valuable virgins Yielding their innocence And let them plead for more More woes and cries in relish Relishing the fights of joy No one wins but all in bliss Then again may I wish That I hand this heart Only to an angel of rose On the bed of her chest Let me rest in thoughts Thoughts in thy blessings Oh thou stupid cupid

Laughing in dark minds Such smiles that floats  Talking love but full of hate Wants respect but disrespects Murderers relishing their lives  It feels like hypocrisy or so Tell me, I don't know please While in the best mansions Mansions called cathedrals In the best of apparels Garments of cost and worth The luxuries of priests and laity No one bothers, no one worries With sweet winds of sorts Claps, timbrels, strings and drums Water and oils in their hands They visit others with violence Worshippers of African manner They're the others and victims  Turning themselves to lords They judge all else evil and ill Them alone are good and none People of the cathedrals  African brethren who prides not Humility is a part of their rituals Under trees and decors of shrines Humbly dressed, lowly bending Undying faith in worship, honour Praying good and for all Never saying ill on the cathedral From the cathedrals they come With all intents to desecrate Falling down the shrines Burning down