#jehovah
They say /
Love can heal /
& that time mends all wounds. /
Even so, the pain still lingers: /
The sting of mortality, /
The chains & shackles of a martyred past, /
Unrequited love. /
These all besmirch /
The light of a heart /
That once shone, fulminated resplendently; /
Moreover, the residue of my departed juvenescence /
Leaves me in a melancholic haze. /
What I am is disillusioned & /
What I’m not is where I would like to be. /
The Cimmerian shadows of the past & my regret /
Still cloud my mind /
& leave me singing a discordant melisma /
That reverberates, resonates, echoes through in & throughout. /
Even so, my hope & faith /
Have not been extinguished. /
A remnant, a relic, a vestige of what I once was /
Is where I stand /
I pray that Jah, The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love /
Can redeem & repurchase me /
From the abyss of my angst & sorrow. /
Jesus Christ is my Lord, King, & savior, /
Now & forevermore, excelsior. /
(—Se’ lah)
12-08-2025
Dec 9, 2025
Dec 9, 2025 at 12:21 PM UTC
Antipathy of God’s magnum opera: \
An anomaly, \
It is preternatural, \
& it is entropy. \
As Children of The Most High God, Jah, \
The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love, \
We must rise above, we must transcend \
Hate, Malice, & attrition. \
The Spirit is beckoning you, \
Embrace amour & revere the one who is love: \
8 “Who ever does not love has not come to know God, because \
God is love.” —1st John 4: 8 (NWTSE) \
(—Se’ lah)
10-04-2025
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 12:30 PM UTC
“I dream; therefore, I am,” said the sage. \
Will my dreams come to fruition? \
I beseech Jah, The Transcendent One \
That I might attain the fulfillment of the promise. \
When Jah & Jesus sought \
To consecrate me \
I resisted them, \
I did not fathom myself worthy. \
I was enfettered by my Sea of Iniquities \
& unable to disentangle, liberate myself \
From the onerous & lethal wages \
Of Sin & Death. \
But now I have been emancipated, —experienced manumission \
By the Hand of The Deific Divine: \
My dreamcatcher, \
My salvific benison. \
To The Transcendent Dreamcatchers: \
Thank you for life, love, liberty, & your embrace. \
—You are Freedom, you are The Emblematization of Emancipation, you are The Insignia of Liberty; \
Therefore, you grant me the wings to soar. \
Please continue to be my aegis \
Your name being a bulwark against The Nightmarish Wraith of Tremulousness. \
Apropos of your Holy Spirit \
I wield a Bastion Heart. \
(—Se’ lah)
09-26-2025
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 10:11 AM UTC
A burgeoning dream /
That proliferates /
Even as my physical body /
Wanes /
A lingering will /
That compels me forth every day of my life. /
Dreams are the quintessence of life: /
Ineffably rare & tender. /
Dreams give me hope /
They instill within me the fortitude /
The impetus /
To bring them to fruition. /
But sometimes /
I fathom the fulfillment of the promise
/
Shall ne’ er come to pass, /
As though I am not enough /
As though I will remain /
In limbo. /
I beseech The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love /
That my dreams are fulfilled. /
A wish is inviolable power /
Cast in the light of reverie; /
Therefore, I await the day /
When my prayers are fulfilled. /
(—Se’ lah)
09-05-2025
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 9:50 AM UTC
Sun, Moon, & Stars /
In The Cabinet of Creation /
Formed to exalt The Cosmo-Plexus. /
Jehovah, did you /
Form all to be loved? /
I believe you did create /
All people to know /
& to love. /
—Love is all, /
Love is beauty, & beauty is love. /
Hearken to the ethereal resonations /
Loveless vore. /
Jehovah is all to some, /
He is my Heaven, He is my Earth, /
He is my Moon, He is my Sun, He is my Sacral Polaris. /
Perhaps a paramour /
Might be fitting to some. /
However, even when loveless, /
I am not enfeebled. /
—I am power. /
(—Se’ lah)
07-26-2025
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 4:01 PM UTC
Abba, forgive me and forget
The sins for which I live disgraced
And face the wicked world shame-faced,
And I shall live to prosper yet.
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 5:13 PM UTC
There is a burden in my heart, there is a wallowing in my spirit, there is a heaviness in my heart.
I want to do more in you lord, I need to do more in you Lord, I find it hard to let go of my desires and walk to you.
But with the little strength I have, I'll call upon your name and I shall be saved, I'll lean into you for help and you'll be my guide .
I come to you lord.
My heart needs you.
My strength grows weak without you.
I know your strength is made great in my weakness, so I come to you father. Please help me.
Nov 6, 2024
Nov 6, 2024 at 7:08 AM UTC
His love washes over me /
Pristinely /
Drenching me, deluging me /
In surging airborne streams /
A parcel of wind greets me /
& raises me to Him. /
In the Light of Dreams, of sweet reverie, /
There I find Him. /
Beside me he fulminates /
Making me adamantine, /
Diamonded /
Glistening resplendently. /
A place of concealment, a sanctuary, /
He drenches me in His Light, baptismal, /
Cascades me, /
In its torrential downpour. /
In stillness there is revelation, /
In stillness there is clarity, /
Though our hearts tremulous, may quake & tremble, /
He awakens us anew each morn. /
Dec 10, 2023
Dec 10, 2023 at 3:10 PM UTC
Why should I surrender to fear? /
Oh, is this frailty I sense in me? /
As I'm budding I envision the aethers /
Embracing me, rapturously, /
I spiral upwards /
Efflorescing, bursting into bloom. /
Why do we tremble at change, /
Yet embrace continuity? /
When do we stop pining & /
Herald equanimity, harmoniously? /
Yin & Yang; of lore I once sang, /
Now triumphalistically I declare His name. /
Freedom reigns /
Truth prevails, /
Justice weighs /
Spirit sustains /
A diaphanous azure flame: /
—I shall ne' er be the same. /
(—Se' lah)
Apr 1, 2023
Apr 1, 2023 at 10:01 AM UTC
Nonbeliever
by Michael R. Burch writing as Kim Cherub
She smiled a thin-lipped smile
(What do men know of love?)
then rolled her eyes toward heaven
(Or that Chauvinist above?).
Keywords/Tags: Agnostic, Atheist, Chauvinist, Heresy, Heretical, God, Religion, Atheism, Nonbeliever
Is there any Light left?
by Michael R. Burch
Is there any light left?
Must we die bereft
of love and a reason for being?
Blind and unseeing,
rejecting and fleeing
our humanity, goat-hooved and cleft?
Is there any light left?
Must we die bereft
of love and a reason for living?
Blind, unforgiving,
unworthy of heaven
or this planet red, reeking and reft?
While “hoofed” is the more common spelling, I preferred “hooved” for this poem. Perhaps because of the contrast created by “love” and “hooved.”
Evil Cabal
by Michael R. Burch
those who do Evil
do not know why
what they do is wrong
as they spit in ur eye.
nor did Jehovah,
the original Devil,
when he murdered eve,
our lovely rebel.
Red State Religion Rejection Slip
by Michael R. Burch
I’d like to believe in your LORD
but I really can’t risk it
when his world is as badly composed
as a half-baked biscuit.
Enough!
by Michael R. Burch
It’s not that I don’t want to die;
I shall be glad to go.
Enough of diabetes pie,
and eating sickly crow!
Enough of win and place and show.
Enough of endless woe!
Enough of suffering and vice!
I’ve said it once;
I’ll say it twice:
I shall be glad to go.
But why the hell should I be nice
when no one asked for my advice?
So grumpily I’ll go ...
although
(most probably) below.
Altared Spots
by Michael R. Burch
The mother leopard buries her cub,
then cries three nights for his bones to rise
clad in new flesh, to celebrate the sunrise.
Good mother leopard, pensive thought
and fiercest love’s wild insurrection
yield no certainty of a resurrection.
Man’s tried them both, has added tears,
chants, dances, drugs, séances, tombs’
white alabaster prayer-rooms, wombs
where dead men’s frozen genes convene ...
there is no answer—death is death.
So bury your son, and save your breath.
Or emulate earth’s “highest species”—
write a few strange poems and odd treatises.
"Altared" in the title is not a misspelling, but a play on the words "alter" and "altar" (as in a religious altar).
Pagans Protest the Intolerance of Christianity
by Michael R. Burch
“We have a common sky.” — Quintus Aurelius Symmachus (c. 345-402)
We had a common sky
before the Christians came.
We thought there might be gods
but did not know their names.
The common stars above us?
They winked, and would not tell.
Yet now our fellow mortals claim
our questions merit hell!
The cause of our damnation?
They claim they’ve seen the LIGHT ...
but still the stars wink down at us,
as wiser beings might.
Well, Almost
by Michael R. Burch
All Christians say “Never again!”
to the inhumanity of men
(except when the object of phlegm
is a Palestinian).
Advice for Evangelicals
by Michael R. Burch
“... so let your light shine before men ...”
Consider the example of the woodland anemone:
she preaches no sermons but — immaculate — shines,
and rivals the angels in bright innocence and purity —
the sweetest of divines.
And no one has heard her engage in hypocrisy
since the beginning of time — an oracle so mute,
so profound in her silence and exemplary poise
she makes lessons moot.
So consider the example of the saintly anemone
and if you’d convince us Christ really exists,
then let him be just as sweet, just as guileless
and equally as gracious to bless.
Mayflies
by Michael R. Burch
These standing stones have stood the test of time
but who are you—and what are you—and why?
As brief as mist, as transient, as pale ...
Inconsequential mayfly!
Perhaps the thought of love inspired hope?
Do midges love? Do stars bend down to see?
Do gods commend the kindnesses of ants
to aphids? Does one eel impress the sea?
Are mayflies missed by mountains? Do the stars
regret the glowworm’s stellar mimicry
the day it dies? Does not the world grind on
as if it’s no great matter, not to be?
Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose.
And yet somehow you’re everything to me.
Originally published by Clementine Unbound
Maker, Fakir, Curer
by Michael R. Burch
A poem should be a wild, unearthly cry
against the thought of lying in the dark,
doomed—never having seen bright sparks leap high,
without a word for flame, none for the mark
an ember might emblaze on lesioned skin.
A poet is no crafty artisan—
the maker of some crock. He dreams of flame
he never touched, but—fakir’s courtesan—
must dance obedience, once called by name.
Thin wand, divine!, this world is too the same—
all watery ooze and flesh. Let fire cure
and quickly harden here what can endure.
Originally published by The Lyric
The ancient English scops were considered to be makers: for instance, in William Dunbar’s “Lament for the Makiris.” But in some modern literary circles poets are considered to be fakers, with lies being as good as the truth where art is concerned. Hence, this poem puns on “fakirs” and dancing snakes. But according to Shakespeare the object is to leave something lasting, that will stand test of time. Hence, the idea of poems being cured in order to endure. The “thin wand” is the poet’s pen, divining the elixir— the magical fountain of youth—that makes poems live forever.
O, My Redeeming Angel
by Michael R. Burch
O my Redeeming Angel, after we
have fought till death (and soon the night is done) ...
then let us rest awhile, await the sun,
and let us put aside all enmity.
I might have been the “victor”—who can tell?—
so many wounds abound. All out of joint,
my groin, my thigh ... and nothing to anoint
but sunsplit, shattered stone, as pillars hell.
Light, easy flight to heaven, Your return!
How hard, how dark, this path I, limping, walk.
I only ask Your blessing; no more talk!
Withhold Your name, and yet my ears still burn
and so my heart. You asked me, to my shame:
for Jacob—trickster, shyster, sham—’s my name.
To Know You as Mary
by Michael R. Burch
To know you as Mary,
when you spoke her name
and her world was never the same ...
beside the still tomb
where the spring roses bloom.
O, then I would laugh
and be glad that I came,
never minding the chill, the disconsolate rain ...
beside the still tomb
where the spring roses bloom.
I might not think this earth
the sharp focus of pain
if I heard you exclaim—
beside the still tomb
where the spring roses bloom
my most unexpected, unwarranted name!
But you never spoke. Explain?
Belfry
by Michael R. Burch
There are things we surrender
to the attic gloom:
they haunt us at night
with shrill, querulous voices.
There are choices we made
yet did not pursue,
behind windows we shuttered
then failed to remember.
There are canisters sealed
that we cannot reopen,
and others long broken
that nothing can heal.
There are things we conceal
that our anger dismembered,
gray leathery faces
the rafters reveal.
ur-gent
by Michael R. Burch
if u would be a good father to us all,
revoke the Curse,
extract the Gall;
but if the abuse continues,
look within
into ur Mindless Soulless Emptiness Grim,
& admit ur sin,
heartless jehovah,
slayer of widows and orphans ...
quick, begin!
Bible libel (ii)
by Michael R. Burch
ur savior’s a cad
—he’s as bad as his dad—
according to your horrible Bible.
demanding belief
or he’ll bring u to grief?
he’s worse than his horn-sprouting rival!
was the man ever good
before being made “god”?
if so, half your Bible is libel!
yet another post-partum christmas blues poem
by michael r. burch
ur GAUD created hell; it’s called the earth;
HE mused u briefly, clods of little worth:
"let’s conjure some little monkeys
to be BIG RELIGION’s flunkeys!"
GAUD belched, went back to sleep, such was ur birth.
wee the many
by michael r. burch
wee never really lived: was that our fault?
now thanks to ur GAUD wee lie in an underground vault.
wee lie here, the little ones ur GAUD despised!
HE condemned us to death before wee opened our eyes!
as it was in the days of noah, it still remains:
GAUD kills us with floods he conjures from murderous rains.
stock-home sin-drone
by Michael R. Burch
ur GAUD created this hellish earth;
thus u FANTAsize heaven
(an escape from rebirth).
ur GUAD is a monster,
**** ur RELIGION lied
and called u his frankensteinian bride!
now, like so many others cruelly abused,
u look for salve-a-shun
to the AUTHOR of ur pain’s selfish creation.
cons preach the “TRUE GOSPEL”
and proudly shout it,
but if ur GAUD were good
he would have to doubt it.
un-i-verse-all love
by Michael R. Burch
there is a Gaud, it’s true!
and furthermore, tHeSh(e)It loves u!
unfortunately
the
He
Sh(e)
It
,even more adorably,
loves cancer, aids and leprosy.
One of the Flown
by Michael R. Burch
Forgive me for not having known
you were one of the flown—
flown from the distant haunts
of someone else’s enlightenment,
alighting here to a darkness all your own . . .
I imagine you perched,
pretty warbler, in your starched
dress, before you grew bellicose . . .
singing quaint love’s highest falsetto notes,
brightening the pew of some dilapidated church . . .
But that was before autumn’s
messianic dark hymns . . .
Deepening on the landscape—winter’s inevitable shadows.
Love came too late; hope flocked to bare meadows,
preparing to leave. Then even the thought of life became grim,
thinking of Him . . .
To flee, finally,—that was no whim,
no adventure, but purpose.
I see you now a-wing: pale-eyed, intent, serious:
always, always at the horizon’s broadening rim . . .
How long have you flown now, pretty voyager?
I keep watch from afar: pale lover and ******
what the “Chosen Few” really pray for
by Michael R. Burch
We are ready to be robed in light,
angel-bright
despite
Our intolerance;
ready to enter Heaven and never return
(dark, this sojourn);
ready to worse-ship any gaud
able to deliver Us from this flawed
existence;
We pray with the persistence
of actual saints
to be delivered from all earthly constraints:
just kiss each uplifted Face
with lips of gentlest grace,
cooing the sweetest harmonies
while brutally crushing Our enemies!
ah-Men!
wild wild west-east-north-south-up-down
by Michael R. Burch
each day it resumes—the great struggle for survival.
the fiercer and more perilous the wrath,
the wilder and wickeder the weaponry,
the better the daily odds
(just don’t bet on the long term, or revival).
so ur luvable Gaud decreed, Theo-retically,
if indeed He exists
as ur Bible insists—
the Wildest and the Wickedest of all
with the brightest of creatures in thrall
(unless u
somehow got that bleary
Theo-ry
wrong too).
The Strangest Rain
by Michael R. Burch
"I ... am small, like the Wren, and my Hair is bold, like the Chestnut Bur?and my eyes, like the Sherry in the Glass, that the Guest leaves ..."?Emily Dickinson
"If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry."--Emily Dickinson
The strangest rain, a few bright sluggish drops,
unsure if they should fall, run through with sun,
came tumbling down and touched me, one by one,
too few to animate the shriveled crops
of nearby farmers (though their daughters might
feel each cool splash, a-shiver with delight).
I thought again of Emily Dickinson,
who felt the tingle down her spine, inspired
to lifting hairs, to nerves’ electric song
of passion for a thing so deep-desired
the heart and gut agree, and so must tremble
as all the neurons of the brain assemble
to whisper: This is love, but what is love?
Wrens darting rainbows, laughter high above.
Note to a Chick on a Religious Kick
by Michael R. Burch
Daisy,
when you smile, my life gets sunny;
you make me want to spend all my ****** money;
but honey,
you can be a bit ... um ... hazy,
perhaps mentally lazy?,
okay, downright crazy,
praying to the Easter Bunny!
A coming day
by Michael R. Burch
for my mother, due to her hellish religion
There will be a day,
a day when the lightning strikes from a rainbowed mist
when it will be too late, too late for me to say
that I found your faith unblessed.
There will be a day,
a day when the storm clouds gather, ominous,
when it will be too late, too late to put away
this darkness that came between us.
lust!
by michael r. burch
i was only a child
in a world dark and wild
seeking affection
in eyes mild
and in all my bright dreams
sweet love shimmered, beguiled ...
but the black-robed Priest
who called me the least
of all god’s creation
then spoke for the Beast:
He called my great passion a thing base, defiled!
He condemned me to hell,
the foul Ne’er-Do-Well,
for the sake of the copper
His Pig-Snout could smell
in the purse of my mother,
“the ***** jezebel.”
my sweet passions condemned
by degenerate men?
and she so devout
she exclaimed, “yay, aye-men!” ...
together we learned why Religion is hell.
Published by Lucid Rhythms, The HyperTexts and Black Waters of Melancholy
Hellbound
by Michael R. Burch
Mother, it’s dark
and you never did love me
because you put Yahweh and Yeshu
above me.
Did they ever love you
or cling to you? No.
Now Mother, it’s cold
and I fear for my soul.
Mother, they say
you will leave me and go
to some distant “heaven”
I never shall know.
If that’s your choice,
you made it. Not me.
You brought me to life;
will you nail me to the tree?
Christ! Mother, they say
God condemned me to hell.
If the Devil’s your God
then farewell, farewell!
Or if there is Love
in some other dimension,
let’s reconcile there
and forget such cruel detention.
Prayer for a Merciful, Compassionate, etc., God to ****** His Creations Quickly & Painlessly, Rather than Slowly & Painfully
by Michael R. Burch
Lord, **** me fast and please do it QUICKLY!
Please don’t leave me gassed, archaic and sickly!
Why render me mean, rude, wrinkly and prickly?
Lord, why procrastinate?
Lord, we all know you’re an expert killer!
Please, don’t leave me aging like Phyllis Diller!
Why torture me like some sap in a thriller?
God, grant me a gentler fate!
Lord, we all know you’re an expert at ******
like Abram—the wild-eyed demonic goat-herder
who’d slit his son’s throat without thought at your order.
Lord, why procrastinate?
Lord, we all know you’re a terrible sinner!
What did Japheth devour for his 300th dinner
after a year on the ark, growing thinner and thinner?
God, grant me a gentler fate!
Dear Lord, did the lion and tiger compete
for the last of the lambkin’s sweet, tender meat?
How did Noah preserve his fast-rotting wheat?
God, grant me a gentler fate!
Lord, why not be a merciful Prelate?
Do you really want me to detest, loathe and hate
the Father, the Son and their Ghostly Mate?
Lord, why procrastinate?
Modern Dreams
by Michael R. Burch
after David B. Gosselin
I dreamed that God was good, but then I woke
and all his goodness vanished—poof!—
like smoke.
I dreamed his Word was good, but then I heard
commandments evil, awful, weird,
absurd.
I dreamed of Heaven where cruel Angels flew
above my head and screamed, the Chosen Few,
“We’re not like you!”
I dreamed of Hell below, where prostitutes
adored by Jesus, played on lovely lutes
“True Love Commutes.”
I dreamed of Earth then woke to hear a Gong’s
repellent echoes in Religion’s song
of right gone wrong.
Star Crossed
by Michael R. Burch
Remember—
night is not like day;
the stars are closer than they seem ...
now, bending near, they seem to say
the morning sun was merely a dream
ember.
Keywords/Tags: god, Jesus, Christ, Christian, prayer, Bible, angel, atheist, faith, blasphemy, heresy, heresies, heretic, heretic, heretical, pagan, pagans, god, gods
Published as the collection "Nonbeliever"
Kim Cherub is a pen name of Michael R. Burch. Keywords/Tags: God, male chauvinist, religion, Christian, Christianity, Jehovah, Jesus Christ, feminist, feminism, skeptic, nonbeliever, atheist, agnostic
Mar 18, 2023
Mar 18, 2023 at 8:53 AM UTC
Staid solitude and silence lend me ease
from mind’s congestion, tongue’s propensive burl
toward chatter’s looping, irritating whirl—
exchanging dervish dust for bonny breeze.
My soul may sing and soar from quiet’s nest
or sit in stillest calm without weight’s care
within the waiting, because God is there
who knows me, hears me, grants me sweeping rest.
The Everlasting God, the LORD o’er all
who understands me, loves me with no end—
most faithful, fervent Confidante and Friend—
pervades the sweet quiescence with His call,
“Here in My peace, come find your heart’s desire.
Serene in Me, soul catches My love’s fire.”
May 23, 2022
May 23, 2022 at 10:34 AM UTC
Stumbling
back and forth
falling to the side
crooked is the path
of unstable pride
Written words of old
remain only light
To deviate
sets yourself on high
following those
who only divide.
There is not a man alive
who doesn't stumble
once or twice
Forgiveness
is the bonding
rope
A golden
way to survive
Aug 22, 2021
Aug 22, 2021 at 11:14 AM UTC
I don't understand
but I'm not worried
It's out of my hands,
out of my hands
Been in motion for so long
it's not going to stop
I guess you shouldn't throw away what's written
Whether you want it or not
You can't change it no matter how much you wish
You can't stop what's been put in place
It's God's plan
Nobody can change it
for the Earth or for space
It's bigger than you
That's why life's a rat race
I'm in it too
Enduring
no matter what it takes
One mistake
won't take your life...
even if you make it twice.
Get back up and make it right!
We already know what the consequence is like
I'm not in competition with anybody,
I want you to win.
The only plea I have,
Is want the same
for me
This war isn't mine
I have no choice,
but I have faith
So I speak with
my voice
Aug 3, 2021
Aug 3, 2021 at 8:09 PM UTC
*Have you kissed bruises
On a broken heart
Have you ever loved?
Have you forgiven
All the hurt
Have you ever loved?
Have you been used
Left and even abused
By the ones you loved?
I know a secret
It's best not to dwell on it
Because of all the good
That's all God sees
Even under rejection
Under the hurt of the lies
And all the despise
He forgave us
So tell me true,
Have you?
Every really loved?*
Aug 2, 2021
Aug 2, 2021 at 3:01 AM UTC
I've seen the news
seen what's on TV
Listened to music
looked at you, looked at me
I learned
all about our history
The only light I see
is in the books,
songs & letters
written to you and me
They've survived
through centuries
telling us what's to be
No, anxiety can't get to me
I rest peacefully
my mind is at ease
for the illumination is
brighter than it used to be
The writing's on the wall
the picture is clear
It's never been easier to see
He cannot cheat,
he will not lie
There's no more time to cry
he will wipe every tear from our eyes
May 6, 2021
May 6, 2021 at 3:48 AM UTC
Every man is an omnibus in which our heirs ride
Every now and then
One of them bursts a cherry
And reveals Jehovah's magnificence
Jan 22, 2021
Jan 22, 2021 at 6:16 AM UTC
Nonbeliever
by Kim Cherub
She smiled a thin-lipped smile
(What do men know of love?)
then rolled her eyes toward heaven
(Or that Chauvinist above?).
Kim Cherub is a pen name of Michael R. Burch. Keywords/Tags: God, male chauvinist, religion, Christian, Christianity, Jehovah, Jesus Christ, feminist, feminism, skeptic, nonbeliever, atheist, agnostic
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 3:38 AM UTC
Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?
You made the stallion,
you made the filly,
and now they sleep
in the dark earth, stilly.
Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?
Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?
You forced them to run
all their days uphilly.
They ran till they dropped—
life’s a pickle, dilly.
Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?
Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?
They say I should worship you!
Oh, really!
They say I should pray
so you’ll not act illy.
Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?
Published by The New Formalist, Poet’s Corner, The Road Not Taken, Charlie Hedbo Poetry
We now know there never was a perfect Garden of Eden, because trillions of animals suffered and died before human beings existed. Thus Adam and Eve cannot be responsible for suffering and death. That leaves the Creator, if such a being exists. If not, perhaps it was just the bad luck of the draw.
Keywords/Tags: Creator, Creationism, God, Demiurge, Yahweh, Jehovah, worship, religion, pray, prayer, evil, suffering, death, Jesus, Christ, Christian, Christianity, garden, Eden, Adam, Eve, animals, creatures, stallion, filly, pretty pickle, silly, nonsense
Mar 2, 2020
Mar 2, 2020 at 12:44 AM UTC
...
It's very hard
Trying to make a change in this life
Please fill wisdom in my heart
So that the end of this system, I'll survive
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 2:45 PM UTC
I use to run off of emotions, and things always worked out. Yes, my life is piratical, yet at times I do things that are out of my lane. I am not in love with change, I move with prayer. There are many times that my mind says go and Jehovah says no. So I work off of what I am told.
It builds my faith, endurance and trust in him.
I have many short term goals. All of the long term goals have been met. Raise my children, teach them to love Jehovah and love and protect my brothers and sisters. My short term goals are to make it in this system as I await the next. While it seems simple, you would really need to know me to understand, how not so simple I really am.
As my life changes, how strange things seem. So much time on my hands to sit back and just dream. Analyzing the lives that many choose. That is because I am still young enough to make a whole new life of my own.
I have not seen anything that appeals to me. As we age, so does our common sense. I am grateful to Jehovah that throughout my youth, I had my children to fill my time. I love my babies and I am so thankful that Jehovah changed my life!
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 12:13 AM UTC
If tomorrow never comes don’t mourn for me because I have finally found good sleep. No, I won’t be able to hear you as you post your fake love on social media. Because I will have finally found the true meaning of peace. I won’t hear or see your tears because I will be asleep. You won’t find me in heaven or your term of hell. For these things don’t exist for me. I will not be among the ones that reign in heaven although I do hope that they enjoy their new life. Nor will I be burning in hell, Hell is a common grave and no God of mine would treat people that way.
He is a God of love and mercy so know that, if tomorrow never comes I have the hope of the resurrection. Make sure that My children know that they are my heart and that I hope to see them when I awake. For those that I have spoke the word from the bible with, I hope that they continue to learn. If tomorrow never comes for those that lost contact stay lost. Please don’t come around I won’t be able to see or hear you. But there is no love lost.
If tomorrow never comes remember that those that you love must know it. Serve Jehovah to the full he is so amazing and deserves your love and so much more. Those that were there with and for me you mean the world to me. Don’t run up bills on student loans or trying to buy homes. Travel and give love where it’s needed and deserved. If tomorrow never comes I will see you in the new world. Same girl but we will be in a perfect world!
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 12:01 AM UTC
If I'm wrong, I die.
I cease to exist.
But I know what it's like not to exist.
Or at least I can imagine.
I didn't exist before I did.
For billions of years.
And Mark Twain was right.
It didn't bother me in the slightest.
But I'll give it a chance.
I will read Awake!
And I'll visit the Hall.
And I'll use your name for God.
Jehovah.
But what if you're wrong?
You feel joy, love, peace.
Meaning, purpose, certainty.
Those things elude me.
But what else?
Fear? Guilt? Isolation?
A hatred that you call pity?
Those things are beyond my reach.
An education cut short?
A marriage too long?
"Don't talk to her.
It's for her own good."
What if it's not?
There will always be people trying to hurt you.
It's easier when they have God on their side.
"Two eyes saw this, but two others did not.
I'll take my reward now.
Did I mention I'm good with kids?"
What if you're wrong?
Sure, your Tower is tall.
It dwarfs my cathedral.
And it does.
I stand in awe.
Your Tower is tall.
It Watches all things.
And it does.
But is it tall enough to see Clearwater?
You know, Celebrity Centers and personality tests.
Cruise and Travolta.
Your names are different: Michael Jackson and Prince.
But the songbook is the same.
Leadership is accountable to no one.
Dissent is a **** that must be eliminated.
The world is out to get you.
And critical thinking is a trap.
Families are vital (until they aren't).
Our authority will not be questioned.
We make no mistakes.
But we do become more perfect over time.
"But it's not 'disconnection,' it's disfellowship.
And they're not 'suppressives,' they're apostates.
And we live in no bubble.
But we'd rather not debate you."
"Besides, they're new.
They're small and they're few.
They have strange beliefs.
That's what matters, right?"
But it's not.
It's not what matters.
And it's not in my nature to hurt people.
I can **** when it's justified.
But I don't know that this is justified.
And consider the life of a poor, worldly soul.
Fear is no friend.
Guilt is a memory.
(Guilt for things that warrant no guilt.)
We see the world as it is.
Science is no threat.
Solitude is a choice, not a lesson.
Education is full.
Abuse is reported.
Families talk.
We are slaves to no Slave.
Of course these things are foreign to you.
Your book precludes them.
And your book is infallible.
But so are all the others.
So thank you for visiting, but I'm hedging my bets.
I wish you the best, but I'd rather take death.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 4:44 PM UTC
The only love I've ever known
I have never seen
The only ear that's ever listened
I've yet to hear him speak
But I know he speaks
Through pages I read
In moments
Experiences
I relive in memories
The only love I've never known
I talk to more than anyone
I talk about him too
The only love I'll ever want
I have yet to meet
But somehow I know I will
One day
That day is worth living for
To me it means everything
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 12:49 AM UTC
Able to see everything
To act anywhere
(Proverbs 15:3; Hebrews 4:13)
A spirit person.
(John 4:24)
Invisible to you and me.
(John 1:18)
Visions recorded consistently
(Isaiah 6:1, 2; Revelation 4:2, 3, 8)
The spirit realm,
distinct from physical creation
A “dwelling place in the heavens.”
(1 Kings 8:30)
The Bible mentions an occasion
when spirit creatures
“entered to take their station”
God resides at a specific location.
—Job 1:6.
If God is not omnipresent, can he really care for me?
Yes. God cares deeply
—Psalm 34:18.
—Psalm 32:8.
Stars and other creative works
“declare the glory of God.”
(Psalm 19:1)
Telling us of
his power, wisdom, and love
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 10:19 PM UTC
Have you ever felt like
Some hearts believe they can see
Right through you
To your core and reasons
They think they know you
though they have no idea
They can't fit the shoes
You've been wearing
If only a glimpse were caught
Available; though it's not
What remains
Is hearsay and guessing
And this is the story
That's believed of me
How they think
I know what happened
Or what's happening
If I did anything
of my own initiative
Why did I too
Feel like a lunatic?
They say I chose my outcome
To fall apart
I am cold as ice
That I don't have a heart
So I freeze
in solitary confinement
I pray for my enemies
Crying tears of silence
Wishing death would come to me
Though it doesn't
I love and move along
Only enduring
That's my story
Don't get it twisted
Now don't you worry
It won't make a difference
I believe in the one
Who's never giving in
He fulfills his promises
& when I pray
He listens
Throughout our lives
We live many stories
Some we're amazing
In all of their glory
Sometimes in despair
We trip and fall
But we get back up
And the story goes on
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 6:13 PM UTC