Wesley Slaughter

Silence Voices overheard  In a corridor  Better wait until next Sunday to approach that touchy subject  so we want Silence The churchman who is told by his fifteen-year-old son that he thinks he may like boys and what does that mean for his salvation Silence The daughter who's talked at by her mother after she transitioned  over two years ago  Who's mother still calls her by her dead name She hears the rant that comes  from the limited phone call that she reserves for Christmas Silence Communities that love  That know the love of God but yet are attacked  by unsolicited preachers. Sometimes they must wish that the church would just stay Silent. But the preachers blaspheme  from their podium Screaming the hatred for those who identify differently From the interpretation that scripture Only supports a man and a woman As though Adam and Eve worked so well together. Silence. I'v...

Recently I've had the yearning for adventure. I wake up from dreams where I am on some form of quest or adventure; I sometimes relive past adventures in my mind; I read books and watch movies that take place in other lands; even as I research, I often catch myself daydreaming about living in that time period and what it must have been like to not know the rest of the world. In our current day and age, the world is accessible to us through our fingertips. The frontier has been discovered and humans, in many areas, have destroyed the natural wonders that would have been an adventurer's playground. It has often been said that humans are "natural explorers"; the adventuring spirit seems connected to our curiosity and the desire to learn. Whether we all feel the call, in the same way, seems possible, but, for me, it feels stronger than many of my contemporaries. Maybe for many, their sense of adventure is quelled by living vicariously through fictional characters in movies...

A huge part of my childhood was the annual Barbecue Festival. It was one claim to fame that my small town had. We didn’t have much. We had the bluegrass museum, a big river hotel named the Executive Inn, high levels of illiteracy, and the International Bar-B-Q Festival. It was one of my favorite times of the year. There would always be inflatables, always live music, and, of course, always good ole’ barbecue. For our little town there was an influx of vendors and, surprisingly, tourists seeking great food and fun times (however, they were probably folks from neighboring counties).  I remember as a kid wandering from stall to stall, looking through the wears of these traveling artisans, my eye ever drawn to the toy swords. I remember watching the Goldie’s Opry perform every year on Friday night. There was always seventeen different food vendors lined up beside each other, all essentially selling the same thing, each offering novelty cups to grab your business. Every Saturday our ch...

In this one you laugh. I recall the day. I hated wearing all white. There was that sweater vest with the itchy wool; I felt constrained by the collared shirt underneath. You told each grandchild their role, calling out my name to sit still. I could never sit still. We sat on a blanket in your giant yard. The scent of freshly cut nature lingered: that sour smell of crabgrass, the dead leaves, Woodbury. You laughed in this one because of the cooky cameraman who tried to grab our young attention. He wore a bandanna on his head and wore ripped, light washed jeans and a dirty white t-shirt. The dark circles around his eyes, gaunt face, and spindly structure revealed his sickness. You laughed at the absurdity of dangling grandchildren and their respective parents, being the strong matriarch everyone looked to for guidance. You exemplified beauty and grace which mixed so well with a calm strength and gentle control. That was why you could laugh. You knew everything was okay and that we woul...

Take and eat these words I prepared them for you butter and salt sprinkled with truth the spice and the sweet romance in this case this recipe requires infatuation and emotion for the taste Take and eat these words We found this one day We talked for a minute but now we’ve fallen astray I fear the end is near but I still have more to do we’ve walked in the darkness the light shines through you take and eat these words  for these words are my heart beginning in winter ending in part  of a misunderstanding oh how these words did spin a misdirection that  pointed us in the meal came in crashing the dessert laced with cyanide cornered and fractured the conclusion is verified these words are burnt no sugar no more I’ve taken and eaten your words they have rotted my core

Have you ever read about the famed Jesus Christ? Have you ever gone to church and listened to a preacher talk about Jesus? Maybe you come from a different religious back ground, still, chances are you've heard about this guy Christians are so crazy about called Jesus. Each person who comes into contact with the idea of Jesus creates a perception around who he might be. For some, that perception comes from the interactions with followers of "Jesus." For others it's a perception told to them by a authority figure: parent, preacher, teacher, or otherwise. Others would claim that their perception comes purely from the Bible. Even if those people had never experienced another person affecting how they view Christ directly, their perception of Christ is informed by their personal world view. To some degree, all of our perceptions of Christ are based on our preconceived notions about the world. So what does that mean?  Well, this creates a large variety of Christ figures...