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Sara Kellie Oct 2018
Religion is Recruiting for
Customer Complaints.
Where is my God, the disciples
and all the absent saints?
The time I have invested
sitting in your church.
This wasn't in your advert
you've left me in the lurch.
I'm asking for a refund,
you've years to reimburse
and then there is the funeral,
the flowers and the hearse.

I've sat on your pew,
spent time praying to you
and now that I'm dead,
I'm unsure what to do.
I should have known better,
you never replied.
Yet I kept the faith
until the day that I died.

Now I queue to complain,
I must be ******' insane!
you don't even exist!

Poetry by Kaydee.
On the first day, man created God.
Lawrence Hall Oct 2018
Father Why’s Glob

              And whan he rood, men myghte his brydel here
                    Gynglen in a whistlynge wynd als cleere
                    And eek as loude as dooth the chapel belle


A famous priest takes pictures of his meals
Writes detailed notes on how they were prepared
As he airplanes around the world attending meetings
To talk about people he doesn’t like

A famous priest takes pictures of more meals
Almost cellular closeups of bits of meat
While he is flying holy in first class
And praising his cabernet sauvignon

A famous priest promises prayers (and cookery tips)
If you will send him money for his many trips
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
Katie K Sep 2018
Music fades away when you arrive
Spreading the doom with every stride
The stare of hatred locked in your eyes
Sinister cravings behind sacred lies

You want me to beg
You want me to look
You want me to bend
And follow your rules

Judging from throne made out of gold
Taken from people that you control
Deep in your cave, the smell of decay
Surrounded by slaves, you ***** on their brain

You want me to pray
You want me to lay
Down on the floor
While you’re taking my pay

Kingdom of blind, darkness inside
The bread and the wine, poisonous bite
Be sure that someday the people will rise
You will back down when they finally realize

You want them to beg
You want them to cry
You feed on their weakness
That’s how you survive

The blindfold developed some holes by the time
Now we can see what’s on the other side
You made yourself bed with flameable lies
With spark it will turn into ocean of fire

You want me to beg
You want me to pray
You want me to dive
And make me obey

You are destroying the lives with your madness
Leaving them cold, fearful and helpless
You spit out your words, shooting out aimless
I stand up to you now, ready and shameless.
Sara Kellie Jul 2018
Inside the Catholic Church
the shepherd does lurch.
With a flock of sheep
for him to keep,
Using their belief,
he'll use them all for his relief
and he knows they won't tell,
for he'll send them to Hell.
To see the bad guy
who punishes the bad.
Yeah I know, and people believe this.
How sad!

It just makes me wonder
how much wealth they will plunder.
Defending the beasts,
sorry I do mean priests.
and if church walls could speak,
how much blackmail they'd seek
to keep the shepherd,
from the mild and the meek.

Poetry by Kaydee.
The Catholic Church not only attracts abusers of children, It protects them.
ShowYouLove Apr 2018
Lord, on this holy day in which we celebrate Good Shepherd Sunday, we reflect on your love and guidance for your people as the Good Shepherd. You call us each by name and your sheep know your voice and follow you. There is so much noise in this world that distracts us and pulls our attention away from you and your loving word. Lead and guide us and keep us safe from harm. When we are lost and we stray, you bring us back to be with you again. We are a community; a living body united by you. There is strength and safety in numbers. On Good Shepherd Sunday, we pray for our clergy and especially our priests that they would be good leaders, protectors, and providers for their flocks. We pray that you give them strength, courage, and wisdom to do what is necessary. We pray for their safety and peace for, without their good guidance and council, we would be lost. Thank you Lord for giving us our Shepherds and I pray that we thank and recognize them for their leadership. Help each of us look to you, Lord Jesus, as the model and example as we try to follow what it means to be Good Shepherds for those around us. In this regard, we pray also for those in positions of authority and power that you would put good influences in their lives to help them choose the best good. Jesus, you are the Shepherd of our minds, hearts, souls and lives. Thank you!

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.
Mike Virgl Aug 2017
The clergy men often say
"Devout and holy we gather"
"Sit down for only we"
"Interpret god"

Did you remember the day?
When all the priests that stood
Gazing from under their hood
Lied plain for you

All promising that your pay
"Would go to our most pure father"
"His heavenly host cures"
"And leads us home"

Yet, look what they did to pray
For that little girl did
Kneeling down as pearl did
For Father or for God?
Innocence stolen by men forced to dire actions by an ancient society of hypocritical monsters.

This just has been an idea of mine I've been working on, it may not be that great.
Rustle McBride Jun 2016
Forgive me father,
for I am Sin
and I am here
to take you in.

Its been thirty years
since my last confession,
but mere moments
since your last transgression.

and though you thought
all had gone unseen,
your hands and soul  
remain unclean.

You took
our Father's Sacred Trust,
and through it proclaimed
yourself as just.

And, while children,
yes, they will believe,
the eyes of mine
you can't deceive!

I know what you did
and you know to who,
and I'll not let you
draw the curtain through.

Your crimes,
these I will expose;
For my friend,
the victim no one knows.

No one knows him,
because he's dead.
because of you.
Because he bled.

You see,
he thought he
was just a boy.
Not some secret to destroy.

it didn't make sense to him to live,
because of what you said
and what you did.

But, don't you ever believe
that Our Lord allows
men like you to break these vows,
and then disclaim
and then rebuke
a boy who dared to speak the truth.

You watched as a child sank and died
and to the Courts, how loudly you denied.

don't believe that I am ever fooled,
and my vengeance will not be overruled.

For I am Sin,
and I don't care how much you cry.
**My Hell awaits the day you die.
written for my friend Kevin
Brent Kincaid Mar 2016
We never really know
What happens in a person’s home.
We can’t really know
What happens when they’re alone.
It’s every block and street
Even from those we trust to lead.
Too often parents turn
And simply refuse to even heed.

Crying and waiting for the rainbow
After seasons of so much rain.
It’s a heartbreak one must suffer
Waiting the rainbow to come again.

Not one in a million
There are far too many suffering
Not one in a thousand
Even if parents don’t know a thing.
Not one in a hundred
That is only one small percent.
They are the victims
And they never gave their consent.

Crying and waiting for the rainbow
After seasons of so much rain.
It’s a heartbreak one must suffer
Waiting the rainbow to come again.

Many think it’s a seldom thing
Yet it is too large a fraction of the whole
Robbing the children of youth
And taking away the basis of their soul.
They don’t want to admit it
But if they care about them, they must
Because abusing children is
A vile way to steal from them their trust.

Crying and waiting for the rainbow
After seasons of so much rain.
It’s a heartbreak one must suffer
Waiting the rainbow to come again.
Dr Mike OConnell May 2014
Brian Patrick

Tall, knowledgeable, caring, jovial and holy
Respected by many; exalted by others
His road – the road that should be taken
Irish of course, but not of the old sod

The unattainable, becomes at once, attainable
Your reckoning lightened by his words
The Black Robe is a tale to be told by all who believe
Believers they may be, but not for ease of living

He, The Black Robe, beckons you to seek his countenance
Consolation is offered within the folds of his robes
You accept the gift without hesitation of belief
Your belief in the blood sacrifice of the unbelievable

The comfort of refuse offered by The Cassock
Truly blackens with the deceit of the unholy
All too friendly for men and boys
The betrayal all too familiar for me
© 2014 Brian Patrick

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