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Chris Apr 7
First it needs to be noted that the REAL commandments, the set of
ten, come after these in the bible, but for purpose of mockery, I shall use the popular version instead.

1.Thou shalt have no other gods before me.(except for drugs, alcohol, your job and TV.)
2.Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image(except a Jesus magnet, Holy mother Mary and a picture of Moses for a magnet on a fridge.)
3.Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain(except when you're having ***, or hitting your head or having vaginal pain)
4.Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.(Do I need to say anything, in America it seems, the thing that is sacred- money only.)
5.Honour thy father and thy mother(except if you want to do drugs, **** and party even harder.)
6.Thou shalt not ****(That ones easy, you can hire someone who will)
7.Thou shalt not commit adultery(But that loli across the street makes this list a mockery)
8.Thou shalt not steal(except from people who can't defend themselves and you need their oil, for real.)
9.Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour(except if she's an evil witch a Muslim or a traitor.)
10.Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house,
thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife(No, you'll just mimic his behavior in order to have a richer life.)

Now, I'm not a man believing, but it seems these lost their meaning,
Somwhere in between the Moses climbing,
Up Sinai and later finding,
The Lord has changed his mind a bit,
And he's made a brand new list.
READ BEFORE COMMENTING:
I am an atheist, I am just calling out hipocrisy of the people who'd have me be sexually repressed and punish my evil thoughts but who at the same time commit every sin almost every day. Freedom is not negotiable. It is the only imperative.
gabrielle Feb 25
I have sinned
and the commandments are you.

As your order is to be not loved by me
and to be loved by you.
Thou shall not love you,
thou shall be loved by you.

and it was all disobeyed.
There stands the Idol on the Square,
Glistening in its glazed, gold splendor and so-called glory.
Its sun does not shine on it because it is important,
The sun shines on it because the Idol is simply there, simply there to bask in it all.
But then come the first tribe of people who walk into the empty square,
Who walk into the Idol’s city looking for company.
All they see is the Idol, a figure firm and masculine
Yet it is also lean and feminine.
All who see the Idol’s seductive stare,
With its crafted eyes gazing like a graceful serpent’s eyes
Believe the Idol to be holy
As it glistens in its glazed, gold splendor and so-called glory.

The first tribe looks above, hungry and hopeful.
They sit down in front of the idol, as they are taken by its chiseled, serpentine form.
Then the second tribe comes in and notices the first tribe eyeing the Idol.
The Idol eyes the newfound fans flocking by the handful.
The second tribe sits down to gather around the Idol and forget their long journey
To wherever they were supposed to be or whatever they were supposed to do.
Then tribe after tribe leers in line and take their time from the wilderness
To bask in the Idol’s wisdom of wasting without worrying,
As it glistens in its glazed, golden splendor and so-called glory.

The tribe members sit around the Idol, looking up and demanding peace
From treading arid deserts,
Walking through moist, flesh melting jungles,
And venturing through bone biting arctic winds
And forgetting the larger presence around them
That lead these folk to the danger of this place
And what would lead them away from the Idol.

The tribe members dance around the Idol.
They blend their blistering, bruised bodies close to the Idol’s golden platform,
Against each other in a violent **** of screams, moans, and demands for where they are
In their mortal life and for the realm beyond the weary bone and flesh they inhabited.
They ask constantly of what they can do for the Idol,
All while forgetting about a larger purpose of their own god
And why they were walking around in the wilds in the first place.
Instead, they are entranced by the Idol’s mute music
That rings in their heads, which screams from the closed mouth of the Idol
In its glazed, golden splendor and so-called glory

The shriveling tribes bow down to the Idol’s grace without individual care
with their rib cages poking out and their mouths dry with drought.
In their weakness, the tribes goad the Idol
To perform a miracle of strength like or more than their own god,
Or even more than each tribe member can do.
Yet their minds are sinking into a haze of ash
From the fire they burn around the Idol to hopefully bring it to full life
And their skin is black and charred from pouring all the goods and money
Into the ring of fire surrounding the Idol
They give their nourishment to a being built on the basis of needing no sustenance
Except its own and the lives it is stealing from the people around it.

The tribes holler and howl for the Idol to answer their wishes for a safer haven
Than the barren one they are frivolously wasting in now.
They desecrate their individuality with conformist chants used to glorify their god
But instead are used to glorify the Idol with ragged throats.
The Idol still stands, blind, deaf ,and mute
To the tribes’ kisses,
To the tribe’s prayers,
And to the tribes’ outstretched arms grasping for salvation.
The Idol basks in the tribes’ ignorance yet ignores their ignorance
In its glazed, glistening, so-called glory.

The Idol on the Square
Stands in a pool of starved and dying bodies
Still pleading in weathered whispers,
And still gripping the Idol’s platform with bony fingers.
All these tribes, all these offerings to the vultures
Perching on the tops of buildings, on the lamp posts, and on the city gutters.
They were once followers of their own god,
And of their own destinies,
But they are now the followers of the Idol,
The Idol of Death,
The Idol of Damnation,
The Idol of Starvation,
And the Idol of Lamentation.

They are followers of the Idol on the Square
In its glazed, glistening, so-called glory.
Kim Essary Aug 2018
A sense of lonely covers my soul, like the darkest ebony amongst the snow.
The feeling of sadness and pain fills my heart, as I bare witness to evil tearing us apart.
So many obstacles stand in the way, my only hope is to bow my head and pray.
Though it's written in the Bible ,in which I believe to be true.
The children will turn on each other and their parents too.
Yet though hath commandments written in the stone.
Thought shall respect thy father and thy mother, no matter if you are grown.
How am I to accept this , the children I carried to life now turn their back against me.
How can one command  yet give warning just the opposite of the way the end shall be..
There is no greater pain other than when a mother gives birth , but for when her only children no not their mothers worth.
©KimE2018
I will never understand how the children we have raised can conform to the evils of this world and turn their back on their mother.
Julie Grenness May 2016
This is a window on the world,
Written by a once time girl,
Guidelines for chicks and men,
A new set of commandments,
Take these for what they're meant,
Be yourself, all chicks and dudes,
Let it all go, we learn in life's long school,
Act the way you want to feel,
You can pretend smiles, which are real,
Do it now, procrastinate later,
Ignore distractions, they're to bait ya!
Lighten up, think of funnies,
Do stuff, even if you don't need money,
Be polite, stay in touch, friends old and new,
Be kind, not exploited, all of you,
Less is more of things to do......
New commandments from me to you!
Feedback welcome. Thoughts are thoughts.
Thou shallt always chase thy inspiration,
lest ye inexorably rot in bored stagnation.
Sam Hain Oct 2015
When people exclaim, "Well, holy Moses!"
I find it funny.  The guy drinks doses
Heroic of wine and loves his boys
Like ***-wee Herman loves his toys!

O.O
You kinda have to meet me in my world for this to make sense: ghastlyverses.wordpress.com
R Dickson Aug 2015
Once we're on the slippery *****,
With assisted suicide,
That's when the sick people,
Have nowhere left to hide,

Now that the clock is ticking,
Where will it all stop,
Next is the old folk,
We'll chop them till they drop,

Down Syndrome men and women,
Elderly, infirm who can tell,
Doctors must authorise,
Shipman did that well,

Then there's the druggies,
We'll have to use a rope,
Injection would be stupid,
Like giving them more dope,

They'll not be the last,
The unemployed are next,
They'll not be sent a letter,
We'll do it all by text,

Get them all lined up,
We'll do them one by one,
Give them the death injection,
Nowhere left for them to run,

The fat ones need to go,
Costing too much cash,
Eating too much food,
Use a knife to slash,

If your neighbour's a bit different,
You know, a bit like that,
Take out your weapon,
And stab him in the heart,

Clear the jails out,
The place if your a crook,
If we need more killers,
It's the very place to look,

Dignitas will be redundant,
We'll **** them all in house,
It'll be good business,
Shooting them just like grouse,

Forget about the smokers,
Assisted suicide's not their game,
With their lungs and breath failing,
They're dying just the same,

Life is so **** precious,
Killing's against God's law,
Commandment number six,
One of ten we shouldn't  withdraw.
Shipman was a doctor that killed his elderly patients.
Dignitas is a Swiss group helping those with terminal illness and severe physical and mental illnesses to die, assisted by qualified doctors and nurses
Bassam A Dec 2014
1) Your eyes killed me without mercy

2) Your lips made me an addict

3) My heart keeps gossiping about you all the time

4) Since I saw you, I forgot the rest

5)  You stole my heart and hid it

6) You merged with my soul and I don't know who I am anymore

7) You occupy my imagination all the time

9) You jailed me waiting for your answer

10) You teared my eyes when they thought they were not going to see you again

Your sins are forgiven if you say* ...

**"I love you"

— The End —