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Oni Olusegun Jun 2018
How many prayer must be answered
Before an atheist believes,
There is a God

How many mysteries must be solved
Before our priest concurs,
There is no God

How many heart must be broken
Before Cupid accepts,
There is no love

How many poem must be written
Before She realizes,
I am in love with her
Eryri Apr 25
"Jesus Makes You Smug"
Is was it said on his coffee mug.
"****** atheist is lucky I'm a pacifist"
Thought the very angry Jesuit.
More nonsence.
A wanderer of the cycles of Faith. A simpleton made to follow in desperation the God creator of endless possibilities and the flow of time and it's ultimate fate. We are headed to our death my friend don't you try to get ahead of yourself. Remember Life moves on with each passing moment so no big deal make your trail of experiences give insight to the reader who ever it may be. Know that your words may be trash to some but more precious than Gold or Emeralds to others. Inspire this generation to get detoxified of the Demons, Satan drugs and depression. Defending my faith and relationship with Christ the begotten Son the Holy Lamb.

Know that my experience may be small and insignificant but I let you know that this words will not fall on deaf ears. Let it be what God wants it to be. I am sharing my poetic expression and experience of how I see Life and it's context. Don't know where all this sharing of poems and experiences will take me or lead me to but one thing am sure of I will be able to transform your train of thought even if it's to the smallest most insignificant degree I still will play a part on your decision making. Just look at my Life and myself see I am a mirror of you. Who I am truly for I am real and I am here to aid you with whatever you may be going thru due to the fact that I am a fellow human concern for my fellow neighbor. Therefore, we are not different the only thing that may change is your *** skin color and faith in something bigger than yourself or it may be nothing and you choose to live life as a Atheist.

Don't worry am not judging simply conversating to your inner being. Come close let's share our lives with each other from all in all we come from the same source and the same God ...Creation. Seeking a soulmate to share my Life with I haven't found the Queen that will make my life complete. I been asking God to aid me on my quest but without success.

I won't give up I know there is someone out there in the endless sea of lost and saved souls 1 of them is the one holding the master key to my soul. Awaiting but am becoming  impatient  at times. Lord allow your wisdom and guidance to show me what I must do to ensure this trial.

Each of us are headed to Judgement and concealed within lies the eternity we shall endure when the your fate is decided by the Immortal One. Furthermore, if the Book of Life isn't a fairytale I pray that my name be in it. Still must struggle with the daily spiritual and carnal battle that rages on in each and every one of one excluded from its tests and trials. Leave me a comment or a like or share my poem or even give it some sunlight for I will do the same for your work if it pleases the one who inspired you to create it.

Be brave have faith build your destiny on a happy belief system stay positive and optimistic. Just be YOU and if people don't or cannot accept you for who you are then they are to feeble minded to understand your perspectives and your outlook on how you view life and live and experience life.

Stay Strong. God Bless You. Thank you for reading.
©Franko The Christian Poet2016
Sharing my poetic expression and experience of my outlook on my latest trials in Life.
BJ Donovan Nov 7
I dreamed I was a lesbian
  a stage frightened thespian
  infinity inside a clock
  a manikin but with a ****
  blindfold at a firing squad
  playing racquetball with god
  Einstein teaching ABC's
  an atheist on his knees
  a poet ******* in a tree
  a monkey typing poetry.
Najla Jul 14
She held a heart
tangled by sunflowers,
and a honey-dipped soul

Her voice sounded
like a soft prayer
Able to convert
an atheist to a priest

Her yellow gaze
is what happiness
could’ve looked like
Sunshine and serenity

A gaze that could turn
a rainy bleak morning
into a melodic sunny haven

I swear on sunflowers,
and your eyes
For they’re the only two things
I ever truly believed in
A mind can love
  an atheist

But a soul must wed
  to God

Each troth professed
  by self possessed

One vow
  —to rise above

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
As a monotheist
Supernatural events
Were easily explained
Good = miraculous = God
Bad = devilish = Lucy


As an atheist,
Supernatural events
Did not happen


As a polytheist
Supernatural events
Do happen
But with
Sneha shenoy Mar 2018
I  went on a mission searching Him.
Priests "he abodes house of worship";
Others "you 'll find him in idols";
Scientists "in atoms as energy";
Atheist "let it be.Your pursuit is futile".

Did it suffice me?It only deluded me.
One day, I stood before a mirror,
The secret was answered.

We are clothed with Power ,
fed with beliefs,moved by love.
The cord of Realization when struck,
the abstruse life begins to unveil
Abating the afflictions of the soul.
This cord & the universe resonate,
To give 13th cord of octave - "ecstasy".

Now this phrase is justified;
"The Budda in me spreads to the Budda in you to create peace & hapiness." *Yes he's in me
The doctrine lines,
The white brick walls,
Coffee creeps,
We still drink,
Our tastes have just changed,
Who took the last of the ******* sugar?
It's been empty for weeks,
But mainstays stay, mainly,
Another 24 hours,
Some look less,
Another victim of violence visitation,
Rattling sign, the wind makes it's appearance,
We made it,
Johnboy the ****** tells aboot,
His momentum,
Taking his mom oot to dinner,
He wore his tattoos on his face,
One cheek said sin, the other, ner,
Shakey Sam comes every meow and then,
Saying nothing has changed again,
Lights are flickering,
While Jesus Jane is on another rant,
You know, aboot Jesus and whatnot,
Atheist Jocoby just groans,
The coffee is a bit burnt,
So is my tongue,
New cats, alley cats,
Dogs and birds,
I couldn't tell you which one I am,
Emergency alarms a buzzing all around,
We just turn down the sound,
As it's another go round,
to speak,
I'm James and I'm an alcoholic,
Hi James,
Turn over turn on,
Hold hands with scumbags turned saints,
All because of the fire we got from a drink,
A smoke,
A burnt down life turned to building,
We hug once again,
And step ootside,
Open door policy,
And fire in the sky is there waiting,
Some run,
Some cry,
Shakey Sam wonders aloud,
Will his dealer deliver,
****** Johnboy calls his mom,
Jesus Jane prays,
And Atheist Jocoby drives away,
I put the sign back on the door,
And make a new ***,
I want to hear that story,
Of how that newcomer once got shot,
By a disgruntled **** in San Francisco bay,
At least I don't need a drink today.
"It's end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine"
Carter Jul 7
Are you there, God?
Can you hear my prayers?
Do you see my pain?
Will you forgive the sinners
who curse your name?
Is there a way to save my soul?

Can i still enter your kingdom?
Do you love me unconditionally?
Will you always love me?
Who could ever love me?
Is there anyway to save me?
Are you even there?

Do you wish you hadn’t created us?
Can you love an atheist like me?
Is there even a soul in my walking corpse?
Do you even exist?
Will you forgive all?
Are you even there, God?
Najla Jul 14
Goddess of Love
I worshiped
the poetry of her

Her voice sounded
like a soft prayer
Able to convert
an atheist to a priest

She’s Aphrodite
and I’m a Sapphist

Who wrote poems
like unheard pleas
from a tormented soul—
sentenced with death
soon to be beheaded

I invoked thee,
my Aphrodite
I’ll be thy Sappho
if you’d answer to
my pleas poems

And in them,
I’d implore you
to abate this intolerable agony, and
allay me in this deathlike solitude
with thy godly presence

I swear on love letters
and you
for it’s the last poem
I write about you
Anya Sep 2018
When you look at me
You instantly stereotype
My glassses
My skin color
You can probably guess I’m book smart
You’d be right
You can guess I’m introverted
You’d be semi right
You can guess I’m not naturally very athletic
You’d be right
You can guess my ethnicity
You’d probably be right
You can guess a lot of things
And there’s a high chance you’d be right for many of them


What about those things,
You’d never guess?
I bet you’d never believe I was a Goalie
You probably don’t know I write poetry
I’m learning Chinese
I ran six miles in fifth grade
I enjoy acting
I’m an atheist
I have a mild obsession with Asian light novels
The list goes on...

But still,
The point here is
There’s a lot of things you don’t see

About me

About everyone

I’m just as guilty of judging as anyone else
We humans tend to categorize,
A lot
From the perspective of an American girl whose parents are from India.
zebra Jul 6
I am an unanswerable mystery to myself

griefs food

belief in uncertainty
is like a medicine that makes me ill
loving the danger of things
like a tender ******
or the superstitious atheist
or the oversexed who convert to Catholicism

in a tither of religiosity
I lift Mother Mary's dress for a taste

irreducibly splintered inside
I feel
religion is quiet like the dead
and im pulsing sin
passionate perverted and metaphysical
a lover of hard headed ******
and goo girls
whispering ***** things in my ear

oooow mercy of nakedness
she holds my **** like a gun
pulls the trigger
and i pop her
panting she bleeds out butter ****

got her good
that big hearted ******* *******

the Devil has his contemplatives
as does God
and Christians say **** that
This is an intertextual piece
partly based on Pico Iyer's
Nura Jun 2018
I am a Muslim, not a terrorist.
Don‘t judge me because of my religion. Don‘t judge us all the same. My religion teaches me peace. My religion teaches me love. It tells me to show compassion, not what you think of us.
I have only one request. That I‘d kindly wish you to look beyond the hate and hurt, and see Muslims are just like you. Peaceful. Loving. Caring. We have families too.
Terrorizing and vandalizing isn‘t Islam heritage.
Muslim, Catholic, Atheist, yellow, black, white, men, women and children. We are all born to this world for a purpose. We are in a world full of discrimination, based on our religion, color, nationality and gender.
Yet, they propagate Islam with a bad image, wich is a huge damage.
They call me terrorist, they call me danger. I‘m feeling like a stranger.
Remember, there is only one world and it is all for us.
We Muslims are the holders of peace, we spread love. Why am I being represented by their false actions?
They say that they are Muslims and they say, they stand for Islam. If they are Muslims, their actions would show it.
Muslims stand in prayer. Shoulder to shoulder, to stop the devil winning.
A terrorist kills someone and Muslims are blamed, a Christian kills someone and he‘s just a ******.
Violence is not Islam.
Terrorists are not Muslims.
Alhamdullilah I am Muslim.
Jonathan Moya Oct 27
“If you do not write or film”,
the director wonders,
”am I alive?”

“What limbo am I in
when the shooting stops?
When my camera no longer
holds the beautiful prism.”

His films stay the same,
only he changes,
exchanging the silver screen
for glistening tin foil
heated under with a match.

When his pain matches
the others, he prays.
When greater, he’s an atheist.

The films are his only company.
He lives with them and for them,
remembering the cinema of his youth
filled with the scents of ****
and jasmine and summer breezes;

remembering the cave
where he learned
to read the light,
understand its alphabet,
and eventually, vocabulary
with each discovered ray.

He smiles as the music track
of little angels being taught
by the local parish priest
to match his voice note
by note flickers in.
solc liveson Jun 17
we lay together, 6:00am, body warmth touch-sharing,
as the June morning summer chill coming off its night nadir coolness
surrenders very reluctantly,
full length pajamas, blankets and coverlets in use,
keeping cold out while bodies touching generate heat -
a big difference

through these layers of cotton controversy, my right arm,
my cunning, falls awkwardly upon her, advising I am woken
and aware she is as well, hear her earbuds emplaced, make shushed
whispering noises re the future of artificial intelligence
and other such mental knottings

my awkward angled arm rests on her landscaped outline of shape,
coming to rest where legs meet at the top of an upside down V spot,
which makes no request, but accepts my bequest of steady
stroking of her ****** as an unnecessary
but atheist-acceptable to her
morning prayer ritual, kept at the intersection of the
physical and physics theorems

funny how some prayers,
where recitation comes thoughtlessly and routine,
uttered without any contemplation are yet
deep comforting for their inherency,
so I pray a stroking repetitive on her body,
well hid neath a summer coverlet,
wordlessly chanted, wordlessly accepted, silence connoting approving permission

I comfort her,
above and through a floral coverlet for her floral coverlet,
till the sun rises enough to truly warm up our plot,
my praying reaches the end of its rope,
where quality and quantity achieve unanimity resolution
no longer needed,
but am appreciated, besides my arm is cramping,
not designed for the rising, unleveled angle of her breathing bodice

my comfort is her extra comforter,
an offering of coffee my reward,
for my daily work has begun,
and I have many more poems stillborn
that require coaxing stroking
to become
witnesses to living
Ken Pepiton Jul 9
why were wallbuilders and promise keepers
made into heros for people like me who
always lived beyond the walls?

Outside the wire,
beyond the pallisade,

within which

Very rich powerful people want all the money
money monetize

me, or phugmefofree

Spaceship earth, the generic term for
the bubble ourkind can

be real in.
This one.
Runes tuned to sounds we share

in cognitve morphic resonance coupled
with this magic-time-teck tic tic


need to know

there, from here,
is always a place to put your foot.
I said that,
There's always aplace to put y'foot

falling according to plan, we land

here in the cloud of pod-people-recasting,
con-positivo woe to whoa to wow
in ten seconds after the first Plancsec you noticed,

Accutron-- Tom Green, not the famous one, maybe
the beautiful mind imaginaty kind,
but he had an Accutron watch in Vietnam,
I remember the tone


viral ideas are the great gift of wisdom, in a word.

The gates of the institute of us, which we, the people are subject to,
the object of our service as patriotic citizens
the consumption economy-minions men imagine are
all conceived in love of money,
at the level of stem ideas.
common sensed as seen on TV
or Twitter

we know, entering-tainment over flow.....

Eric Weinstein
Atheist but I go to synagogue (analog for same knowing
knowing knowing knowing)
I let the spirit move me,
says he,
it doesn't mean that it confuses me... a (no signal)

hmmmm  think
Das Heilige Geist
ghost of a chance, try cognition via morphic

or listen on Spotify. I forgot the time.

I can listen wither I wish, I've reckoned.
I, you know,
inherited the wind,

it was worth all the trouble.

Do you think it's all about belief?
Are you religious,

trivia answer for future players:

Define religious. And they say shitnobodybelieves

I say, define be.
And so on and on.

I did a half hour podcast and returned to thinking in these
runes, peace is made by the path
least re

Sistere, the word is a key to the path,
war distorts reason
for a season

stand here.

Ah, the Welsh H'laf-veard, sug
gests this may be when craft
Coud be the tothic season of the switch,
the exercise in godliness.
liness? why not godness, like
say no lie, the trials are beyond

appeal, judge yourself,

exercise godness,
the voice, nay the word

nay the sound
resounding in you right now, save

ye vacillate, silly, wishy-washy pre-
tender toward

During my youtube listening time today I heard Eric Weinstein say he lets the spirit lead him but does not allow confusion. That's a great idea.
Sydney Sep 5
i’m twenty and my favorite color is lavender and
i'm espresso mixed with honey, talking very fast,
absorbing it so slowly
piling books in the corner and boys by my feet
without meaning to
sunburnt and wads of tissues in backpacks and utterly confused at the concept of god/ raised by a catholic and an atheist,
i’ll always say,
with a laugh, dainty head tilt on a date another hand on a thigh and another prayer that i won’t feel that crushing guilt in the morning like
i usually do
because i have yet to learn otherwise and i’m sure there’s something somewhere inside me? outside maybe inside probably can’t sit still so
i chopped my hair again and i think i’m cured!
until i get stuck in traffic on i-87 and i call my dad to tell him i got my nose pierced and he says,
what? and it closes up anyway on that trip to salem where i put my headphones in and walked very quickly away from you
and the guilt the things i won't feel pile up
i’m a block of lead you can’t get me off of the floor wasn’t i healed?
didn’t i do this? this isn’t a curved line this is a pit and i’m in it and
please leave me here please don’t leave me i’m getting better i swear
but i don’t know when but at least there’s a will to live now and
i’m googling colorado again do you think i’ll be more of a light there?
could you turn the light on?
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