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Kitt Apr 2019
Notre Dame is burning
This we all have seen
But Notre Dame’s been burning
For longer than this dream

Families and their children
Have worshiped in her halls
But families and children
Were stolen by its falls

Notre Dame was sacred
For worship and for song
But Notre Dame’s not sacred
As it had not been for long

Maybe this magestic falling
Is what the world must see
It’s this tremendous falling
That may set the children free

Worship moves with ages
No building must we *****
Elaborate walls do serve to hide
Wrongs we can never correct

So mourn her burning if you feel
But spare us the unending plea
For Notre Dame and her ***** deals
Must end before eternity.
The church was a beautiful reminder of tradition and grandeur, but the sercrets that go on within the walls of the Church are better off cremated.
Nimrod kiptoo Apr 2019
there is beauty and peace in palm trees
as there is loneliness in a summer garden.
Alyssa Apr 2019
I’m saturated in sin
Though I’ve been to the Holy Masses
Not even the Pope could save me
For the closest I’ve ever been to God
Is when I’m laying next to a woman
Tsunami Apr 2019
Sin
I need someone;
Who will speak prayers between my legs
Recite “Our Father” on my skin
Whisper “Hail Mary”s along with their tongue
Let me turn water into wine
Two lovers to one.
I have always been a sinner
genia Apr 2019
You’re 17.
Sunday mass at Church.
Eyes bright. Heart open.
Sign of peace.
A meeting of warm hands across the pew.
Heart aflutter, eyes lowered.
You think, God brought us together.

Sundays are quickly
becoming your favourite day of the week.
Eyes meeting, cheeks blushing
In between the homily.
Weekly meetings turn into bi-weekly dates into marriage.

You’re 24.
You say, God I can’t do this anymore.
Eyes bitter. Hearts closed.
Night-shifts. Poker weekends. Empty houses.
Wordless, soulless, meaningless co-existence.
You think, God brought us together?
No amount of hail marys
Can save us.

That Saturday
Night shift at the Hospital.
Hand sneaking under scrubs.
A breakdown of marriage
Vows.
Heart pounding. Eyes open.
Your saviour.
God’s answer?
(dedicated to Steph)

I dont condone cheating, but what this poem doesnt say is that the other party cheated first. I wanted to explore the idea of God and blessings in various forms.
indigochild Apr 2019
let me take you to church on friday nights after gin and whiskey

roar ‘oh my god’ so she knows you like it
take communion when my thighs greet your face
- - - - taste thy gifts, which we are about to receive
knees rap the hardwood floor, make you beg for mercy
whisper sins in my ears, teeth bashed pillows no longer muffle
crying out your confessions, repent
- - - - keep it pseudo with a blindfold
dip deep, deliver baptisms when i get you wet
- - - - god is a woman in this bed, no more ****** mary’s
metamorphose **** into holy water
vocalize moans to the harmony of the gospel
precise fingers conduct the choir
- - - - adagio, andante, allegro - you designate
reach salvation when you ******
- - - - arch your back, thy will be (un)done
Jack Jenkins Mar 2019
Settled for this setting
but wanted more
all I got
was war war war

The "righteous" stoning
breaking every bone
all their poison
sown and grown and I groan

This building  was to be holy
but this place is lonely
cold
wholly unholy

Am I at any point better
to call the church a fetter?
silent judgments
& this severed letter
//On religion//
Kitt Jul 2017
A baby clutches his mother’s dress
Unaware of how it will save his life
Unwary of the saving grace that will come to rest
The child is soft and clean
His name is Eugenius, the second of three
After Richard, before Michal
He is just a babe, no bigger than an infant can be

A toddler clutches his mother’s dress, the hem
Unaware of tragedy
Unwary of the Horror that awaits him
The child is frightened and shaking
His name is Gene, the second of three
After Richard, before Michal
He is just a little one, no taller than Mama’s knee

A child clutches his mother’s hand
Unaware from behind her skirt as they are herded
Unwary of the disaster to come from the cart
His name is Genie, the second of three
Before Mikey, after Richie
He is just a child, no higher than Tata’s knee

A boy holds his brother’s hand tight
Unaware of the danger he is in
Unwary that the coin from Mama’s skirts will save his life
The boy is healthy and strong, though not for long
His name is Gene, the second of three
Before Michal, after Richard
He is naïve, but soon to grow up prematurely

A prisoner holds his own shirt, unsure
Unaware of the pain that is coming
Unwary that he shall walk away nevermore
The prisoner is hurting and ******
His name is “Gefangene,” the second of two
After Richard, before the crimson mess
He is crying for a ****** towel carried by

A handicap clutches Mama’s leg
Aware that he cannot cry as she shuffles him out
Wary that outside her skirts is the hunt
The handicap is hurting so badly
His name is Gene, the second of three
After Richard, before the new bump
He is unwilling to believe

A kaleka holds tight to his brother’s back
Aware that he is a burden
Wary that he is a load
The kaleka is waiting, waiting.
His name is Gene, second of three
After Richard, before Theresa
The kaleka is ready for release

The dziecko holds again to Mama’s skirt
Aware that he is now free to leave
Wary that he will never be independent
The dziecko is elated and mourning
His name is Gene, the second of three
Before Theresa, after Richard
The dziecko will never be the same

Sixty five years later
Gene holds Rosie’s hand tight
Aware that he is old now, having lived fully
Wary that death is imminent at last
The great-grandfather is peaceful and content
His name is Tata, Grandpa, Gene, husband, and more
He is the last one left of his war
The survivor is ready to reunite with his family
He gives thanks to Hattie’s skirts
That kept him alive though the hurts.
Eugeneus Borowski is my great-grandfather, a child Holocaust victim. This piece is currently featured in the World War II poetry unit in the syllabus of a literature course offered through Northern Essex Community College. The only surviving first-hand account of Gene’s experience is a cassette tape of an interview he gave many years ago.
Cody Cooke Mar 2019
Look at this Mess the Messiah made
You’d think He’d have kept up with things
But all he’s good for is bringing good honest people together
In a place where it’s easy to ******* shoot them
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