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Chris Apr 2020
A foolish people
Has forgotten my ways
They have chosen politics and kissing the Pope's ring
They have cast liberty to the wind
They are not worthy of it.
This is a comment on man's way as opposed to God's.
Tyler Matthew Feb 2020
Having been brought up as Catholic,
I was always told that
God was a jealous god.
Jealous.
That there is no room
for other so-called "gods" in his churches,
and that there can be no room for another
in the hearts of his disciples, his children.
Children.
     Now, a man of twenty-six years,
I ask, I wonder,
why do we invest our faith in a God
who is jealous, when we ourselves
do all we can to abolish
the jealousy in our own hearts?
Is God so unsure of himself that,
were we to merely consider another,
he would reject us and hold us in contempt?
And yet, he is described as "perfect."
Perfect.
That he need not work to improve himself,
though we here on Earth
do all that we can to come close
to purity and perfection.
     As a man of only twenty-six years,
I can tell you with a certain conviction
that God is only a child -
a child in need of guidance, himself.
And I wonder still, more than ever, it seems,
why we look to God at all
and not to ourselves.
Dani Jan 2020
There is only one true God
So I was told
All others are false
It is He that rules
It was Him who created life
Yet the old stories of others linger
Those who He has proclaimed as false
Those who came before him
He is a jealous man
Hellbent on *******
His followers wish to conquer in his name
To burn all the other gods from the sky
But they refuse to leave
They linger in myths and stories of old
His dark desires will not ***** them out
A dictator in disguise
No more say I
Bring back the gods of old
The tales of the Greeks
The hymns of the Hindus
The legends of the Egyptians
All the gods who were snuffed out
By His “holy” light
Which only cast a dark shadow upon humanity
They say God is infallible
Perfect beyond compare
All things good
All things great
Arrogance is His
The gods of old had faults and flaws
The gods of old suffered as we suffered
They are closer to humanity than Him
They are closer to the Earth than Him
I want the old gods back
They were better than Him
I was raised Catholic but later went down the path of witchcraft.  Haha woops
Sean M O'Kane Nov 2018
It's a phrase I often playfully use to describe my queer self.
("Were you ever?"my beloved Alison uniformly says in jest).
But now it seems unusually apt in another way:
As I swann around this empty house, the decor, the photos, the ornaments and old perfume bottles overwhelm me.
My head is brimming with memories as I glance past these fragments of our shared lives.
My loss is palpable and yet inescapable under this roof.
She surrounds us on the walls, hanging over us with her beaming smile amidst the family photos.
I want to escape but I can't:
In a mad way I want to believe that something of these relics around us can bring her back somehow.
She did after all carry something of the old Irish paganism with her.
But, no, this ancient shamanism is sadly absent in a room drowned out by every token of Catholicism you can think of.
It's all too much for this first born to take and yet she is still here in the tiny gaps of these precious artefacts.  
Hidden away where you can't see her.
So, no, being honest right now - I'm not quite straight yet.
The head and heart will realign soon but not with this gnawingly painful grief.
Pray for me.
Jeff S Sep 2018
...And kirchéglise(Notre) dame
   o u r l a d y m y l a d y
encyl-able, Pope or Pope or popedeux
and vindicate the waysteland
   My caska is openclosed!
(pews is pause is putride and prodigious)
Et tout-en commun?Gizerly pharaoh HA
lf gone.
Source-error of Oz
Ymandias
and dust, and dustinction

   god pull downwhich?

or fleurs-de-litigation.
Vini, vu/gesehen, conquered/konkeri?
And tot
And mort
and trunks gefallen.
Fantast-asy—I flail.
pause

S e m p i ternam.
Merry Sep 2018
You say your God is your rock and your light
But light can be blinding
And rock may roll
No longer do I feel faith
In an outback church house
Singing with the preachers
Francie Lynch Apr 2018
My friend's Father,
Who's just that,
Has a Papa Francis.
And her entire congregated family
Won't acknowledge her
Very existence.
How can she communicate.
There's a crack in the crucifix,
And it's splitting, running up the wood,
Past the cruciform,
To the Head.
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