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Without the reassurance of a sweet by and by,
how should I bring a frail body forth in stoic motion
towards an end it will never attend?

Return me to my valley.

Faith is a valley
where rolling hills bend like still waves;
reaching for the heavens and quitting in intervals.

These are the mountain walls of dying,
reeling down to form a divot.

Sit me in it.

With nothing left of me to steep up from the cradle I shape,
I turn to this sea and I say, "unmake me".

These hillside submissions are all a sanctuary for the battered pride
that let us idealize strife, and silence the nature which revolts against our exertion.

With my reason bending to the will of you
i'm deprived of a thing i've had a right to.

Life is now not much more than something which approaches a second one.

My beloved only living ever.
open to interpretation!
Liberty's delight is blazing
a brilliance which she howls as a beam.
That harsh gleam is softened
by the deceptive blush of a tacky cathedral window.    

Tongue flicks, flickers, this tricks—
That gross dialect.
Awkward, and pretentious, and flamboyant vein,
its often open ended.  

As he speaks his tongue lashes
like a thick rug is whipped around, dusted out.
Tamed by his teeth to annunciate a strident vowel and seldom otherwise.  

It does filth the air.
******—
                       I don’t like it at all.                    

Fathers, sons, and brothers—
who are hacking up phlegm;
barking back at mothers
that hack up phlegm back.
The derived from who turn and detest it
with the maternal disgrace.

A man strays from all virtue once he has turned away from his derivative.

Lesser men saying, “yes, let’s”—
They follow and they wallow in adoration.

Why does he abide by his assignment?
Many seem proficient enough to assign it.
They give him his strident vowels.

Why does he wish for a creed?
To be pleased in his pursuit of a satisfactory compatriot.
A peer is a prole is a liability.
Himself, and his Lord, and he.

A few men posses an increasingly uncommon quality;
they've got a light on in their heads.
He flinches, he's cowering.

He pulls his tired arm up into a salute;
shades a squinting gaze from the bright.

An instinctive gesture is heretical still.


( . . . )

My attention is brought back to God
and for the first time I see his face;
contorted, as one would be in the presence of disgrace.

The superior, holy light of his demeanor suggest
he knows all transgressions, disregarding confess.

He turns the other cheek.

And though he’s averted his furrowed gaze,
the weight of his judgment stays.

Kingdom, come! And will be done, I do believe—
I still see the face of god, and he, I.
But, I cannot reach it.

This is not so nice as my lavish sacristy.
open to interpretation.
vik Jun 17
she lieth clay, huff fled, withdrawn;
sun sleeps unturned, no lilt, no dawn.

the child stands silent, priests deceive,
she lingers not, the Lord won’t breathe.

they spake of light, of rule, of psalm,
yet death embraced what once was warm.

he looked and found the flesh laid bare;
at last he grasped, God was not there.
Gideon Mar 8
We are bugs under his shoes.
Not a loved child, in terrible two’s.
Disobedient children couldn’t be so far.
We are grains of sand, and he is a star.
Trample our cities under his feet.
We believe he loves us, an epic conceit.
So full of ourselves, we hope he will serve us.
We pray for glory, success, and surplus.
Yottalomaniac Sep 2024
Here I was told to rest
though with quill in hand I wrest
I fight setting paper alight
with heaven dark and hell bright

Hell is mine and His is heaven
Of that there was no question
Though neither were mine:
It was just
this war of mine…

So I lost sight
of day and night
and spent my life in fright.
I find it curious that writing this one poem complaining about religion has given me more peace than prayer ever has.
Santiago A Sep 2024
When we were born,
we were afraid of the unknown.
The monsters, ghosts, and creatures.

We grew up.

As children we imagined
and believed in the fantastical,
The pixies, wizards, and dragons.

We grew up.

As teenagers we found connection
and believed in the supernatural
The demons, devils, and angels

I grew up.

And you continue believing in
demons, devils, and angels.
ex-christian now atheist. Sad my religious ex left because I don't believe in what she believes.
Not looking to debate, just writing my thoughts.
Kitt Sep 2023
I found healing there
It's like He was speaking to me in my Walk
‘Chew your gum, girl,
For the smells they pump through the pipes is meant to tempt you.
Lascivious meats and unholy spices’
So redeem yourself when you stray
Gosh, heck it all and **** it
But under God, Hell awaits the ******.
‘I am covered by the blood of the lamb
So I shall be saved’
Same chapter, different verse
I am ****** all the same.
xjf Aug 2023
Regardless of my choice of origin
Whether I'm a bipedal ape,
or molded out of clay and rib
I sense it fruitless
To let the complexities of the cosmos
cause me strain

It does me no good
To give unrelenting effort
to a greed-like god
named “Understanding”

I am to wonder and wander
I am to live and love
I am to dance and ponder
To be free
of what's above
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