"baptist" poems
style is the answer to everything --
a fresh way to approach a dull or a
dangerous thing.
to do a dull thing with style
is preferable to doing a dangerous thing
without it.
Joan of Arc had style
John the Baptist
Christ
Socrates
Caesar,
Garcia Lorca.
style is the difference,
a way of doing,
a way of being done.
6 herons standing quietly in a pool of water
or you walking out of the bathroom naked
without seeing
me.
63.3k
There were dividing lines
between Springfield
and Mariners Gate
soft, subtle lines
that spoke of origin
and code
and biting union
it was all
the reason
for being;
alive and living
dead or dying
deep in a pack
of pint size resistors
hell bent on the
marsh crow
and cannabis tower
jumping the rush
with *** shots
and anchors
and tribunals
camouflage creepers
and transient floaters
marked rebellion at the gates
(skullduggery and taunt
high on their favor list)
jack straws and flat paddles
for the evening charade
beakers and flailing hands
from the foot washing baptist
(the Pleasant Street conservatives with their
own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”)
there's a
lingering effect
to this sentiment
(evident in the pump house stride)
the river winds
blow gently
into the night
as the huddling packers
and **** backs
chase the evening hours
it’s a bitter sweet
end of an era;
those traction bars
hood scoops
and nickel bags
will always
be the rage
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC
i really like contrast, and the way the universe juxtapositions things in my life. yin and yang.
like ******* in a church parking lot.
or getting blackout drunk in my bedroom while an a.a. meeting takes place in my living room.
like being a gay atheist who drives to work at a southern baptist college on sundays after church.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 9:40 PM UTC
You see,
When you grow up in a place such as I have,
And you're a person like me,
You start to have a special kind of hatred for small towns.
In my town,
In the land of the brave,
And the home of the free,
Things are messed up.
Our motto should be-
Land of the cowards,
And the home of the free (if you're like us).
...They wouldn't even know how to spell you're correctly.
In my town,
Bibles are thrown,
Names are called,
Cars are keyed,
And people are beat...
All because they're different.
Its not necessarily the different that you would imagine.
If you're red headed,
Or anything but Christian,
If you're a yank,
Or a gay,
You're hated on.
I can promise you this.
At the red heads,
They accuse them of witch craft,
And being in line with the devil.
Some have even went so far,
As to burn down ones house.
If you're not a Christan,
Run as far away from this town as possible.
Its not the place for you.
On the road I live on,
There are 7 Southern Baptist churches,
JUST on my road.
Southern Baptist are a little crazy,
Run boy,
Run.
If you're a yank....
You'll be excluded,
And yelled at.
Everything bad that goes on in this **** town,
It will all be blamed on you.
If you're gay,
Oh lord forbid that you're gay.
Don't be gay in this town,
Just dont.
You wont survive.
As for me,
I am a red headed girl,
Who comes from out of town,
Who isn't a yank,
But is still treated like one.
I am a Christan,
But not as much as I need to be,
And I am not quite straight.
I dont like this small town of mine,
But its the place I call home.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 12:34 PM UTC
at 9, my father took me to confess.
i crossed myself and stepped into
the closet-like space.
"bless me, father, for I have sinned."
at 10, my mother took me to church.
baptist. southern. the pastor spit venom from his pulpit.
they taught me to fear god
and live my life through christ.
at 15, my friend took me to her synagogue.
i sat with her family as her sister
recited text from the torah.
we celebrated her bat mitzvah. held her high on a chair.
at 17, my best friend took me to mosque.
we washed our feet and dressed in tunics
and prayed towards mecca
and recited words from the koran. we were placed behind the men.
the same pattern was played,
over and over again.
swear to whatever god owned
that shrine
that you would give your life for him.
and make no mistake, because by divine reason, it is a him.
and always,
always,
always,
get down on your knees.
and pray.
i remember thinking every ********* time
that prostitutes and disciples
seemed awfully alike.
and then i thought,
"they're probably right about god being male."
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 6:58 PM UTC
A dream can give a poor peasant a chance to be with a beautiful woman, in a pristine environment,
living a life of privilege.
A dream can make him have a bowl of royal ice cream on a hot summer day.
A dream can make her wealthy dad bless their marriage.
A dream can change a peasant's life.
Dreams can come true
Only if you believe.
A dream can transform the life of a homeless child.There can be love, care a warm bed and full bellie
and protection.
A dream can make a Baptist Preacher
See a bright future of his country.
A country polarized by racial segregation and social divides, injustice inequality.
A dream in which his children won't be judged
by their skin colors, rather by the contents of their characters.
©IvanBrooksPoetry
21/8/2018
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 11:07 AM UTC
I'm sorry I'm not 'perfect'
I'm sorry my hair isn't as thick as hers
I'm sorry I'm not as blonde
I'm sorry I need glasses
I'm sorry my eyes are almost black,
not blue or hazel or something pretty
I'm sorry my nose is big and pointy,
not small and cute
I'm sorry my lips are weird
I'm sorry I'd rather write and read
because I can't sing or play very well
I'm sorry I'm not curved in all the right ways
I'm sorry I can't afford nice clothes
I'm sorry I'd prefer to help the community
rather than get straight A's
I'm sorry I'm a really religious Catholic
not a really religious Baptist
I'm sorry that we're not twelve anymore
I'm sorry that I'm not worth the effort
I'm sorry I'm ****** up
I'm sorry I love you
I'm sorry I'm not her
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
**** day freestyle nonsense
Light a candle and burn the canvas
as I take advantage of my madness
I'm about to knock the planet off of it's axis
just the facts, I dont preach what I practice
the high point, the max, the vastness
bad habits like a back sliding Baptist
hail Mary, masses like a catholic
fast to put a fanatic in a casket
pass the tray to the congregation
time to pay the raging Caucasian
no need to pray, just face the creation
as we embrace this greatest occasion
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
Some fairground
by the coast
taken by the Baptist mission
by coach
and outside
some magic mirror tent
after having gone in
you said to Helen
not much in there to see
and the fairground guy
having overheard you said
not much to see?
come here and see again
and he took you
in the tent again
and showed you
how you looked
in front
of the various mirrors
in some you were thin
and tall and in another
you were broad
and fat or you were
squat as if someone
had sat on you
and squashed you flat
and you laughed at that
and the guy said
see there is much to see
so go tell your girlfriend
so you went out
of the tent
and said to Helen
yes it was good
the second time around
and Helen said
perhaps we should
go in together
and so you paid the guy
the money
and you went in
with her and stood
together in front
of the mirrors
and laughed
and she held
your hand
and you remembered
the guy saying
tell your girlfriend
and you guessed
she was
and that made
you feel happy
even schoolboys
of 10 years old
sometimes want girlfriends
secretly endeared
away from the sight
or knowledge
of other boys
as if it were some kind
of betrayal
of the schoolboy code
and as you walked
about the fairground
you watched
where others
on racing
wooden horses rode.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 3:27 PM UTC
Must we rub elbows, Post-Dated Brother
Because of my Drama to her commit
I know my Roles; Her tongue was the other
For my Radar to pick the Better of it
Perhaps our Wine seeps better with Age
On my Canter I drink less of Question
Why? For her, Heart's Duty for joy her page
Quill my Weak Signature's uncondition
Your Cross-Founder states we all must Forgive
And His Baptist turns those Elders from stone
Meaning, my Tarnished History did live
Of which I murdered to leave me alone.
Easy to say, as long as I draw breath
And that is my Purpose to Act in Health.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 5:10 AM UTC
About a mile out of town
Past the village in the mist
Sits a tiny Country Church
Not found on any list
It's for Catholic and Baptist
It's for Protestant and Jew
It's doors are always open
This church is here for you
The town is near two hundred
The Church a few years more
There are tales about this building
That are part of local lore
The church is small in stature
But large in who it serves
It's a place to go and worship
It's a place to calm your nerves
The pews are hard and narrow
Carved by hand you see
One has crumbled through the years
So in all there's thirty three
Seventeen pews on the left side
Sixteen on the right
Hand carved with love by someone
And all are painted white
At Easter and at Christmas
The Church is full as it should be
And as one of those who enter
I say, it's something you should see
The pews seem so much whiter
When the voices sing so loud
If it could be witnessed by it's builders
I know they would be proud
There are carvings in the church pews
Left by many through out time
On the second one in on the left
Is my brothers name and mine
The pews are worn in places
They've supported many souls
Who have come in here for comfort
They have come to be made whole
The one pew that is broken
Was fixed but once more broke
It was decided then to leave it
By the elders, local folk
The minister in charge then
Stood and told those who were there
"To fix what keeps on breaking"
"Wastes time, we could better share"
"Besides, look all around you"
"The pews, there's thirty three"
"To you, it should hold meaning"
"Think hard, and you will see"
"Remember, Christ our Saviour"
"Think of his age on his last day"
"Thirty three, that is the number"
"Now, think on that next time you pray"
"The Church pew that is broken"
"Can't be fixed, so let it be"
"It's as though it was intended"
"To help give strength to you and me"
The Church out in the Country
Will stand longer than me
And will witness many Christmas'
From church pews ...all thirty three.
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 10:49 AM UTC
Stiletto heels and a push-up bra,
Hair piled high, bleached and toned and all…
That’s the way you used to shuffle around,
But you ain’t been much since your man went to town.
Who’s that a’ worrin’ bout them wrinkles and lines?
Is that the same broad who fell for all his lines?
Well, since he left you all you do is frown.
No, you ain’t done much since your man went to town.
You could’a picked a man who would’a cherished you
Once upon a time when love was fresh and new,
But you picked the one who was known all around.
Now, you ain’t known much since your man went to town.
(Interlude)
You could’a picked a man who would’a cherished you
Once upon a time when love was fresh and new,
But you picked the one who was known all around.
Now, you ain’t been much since your man went to town.
What’cha gotta to do to make it right
Is take your piece out of your purse, it’s a Saturday night.
What’cha gotta do is shoot him down,
‘Cause you cry too much since your man went to town.
(I'm still tweaking the arrangement. It should have an upbeat Little Richard or Ray Charles rock-n-roll mid-upbeat tempo with possibly hand claps on the downbeat like a spiritual chorus... since most early rock and r&b; musicians got their starts in small black southern Baptist churches. Let me know what you think. If it ***** tell me.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
I seek in Prayer that you would Forgive
This Uttering Whisper cense your Penance
By the Cross and Wheel for this Dharma, live
My own Locked Fortress that Demon's Seance
Mindful do the Scriptures from Heaven remind
That once a Duty to my Sister's Lord
Invoke this Baptist; To Salvation find
The Enfavoured Trust to your Bandaged Word
Then by your God's Hopeful Mercy relay
My added Petition you both be well
Across the White March Doves mirror that Day
You and his hand - Magnificent we tell.
Such was his Title. And Excelled at that
Knowing your Wound heals, I tip-off my Hat.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 5:21 AM UTC
The son of man
Jesus Christ
Headed to river Jordan
True to the prophesy,
To meet John the Baptist.
Opening the sky
Father above
Jesus in
Jordan River
The Holy Sprit
Incarnated in a dove
Were revealed
The 3-in-1 mystery
To solve.
This as a backdrop,
Carrying replicas of the
Ark of the covenant
On their head,
Putting on
Gold-embroidered
Motely religious robes
Priests go to a nearby river
By the laity
Tagged, flanked
And lead.
In white costumes attired
The laity
Who have dressed to ****
Leave no space
On the road to fill.
The colorful procession
Grabs undivided attention.
Melodies hymns
Ear-and-heart-
Pleasing Music
Of harps and many a drum
An electrifying
Effect is the sum.
History has it
That
Ethiopia has been
Celebrating
Epiphany
Keeping originality
As never before
“Ethiopia raises its
Hands to God!”
Is witnessed
In Ethiopia’s Epiphany
Magnified manifold.
Reverberates the song
“Headed to River Jordan
The son of man! ”
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 8:53 AM UTC
Versions of Faith in the City:
Food parcels Baptist Trinity Church
Post euphoric Olympics nation building
dashed by morally decrepit
Premiership football -
Obscenity chokes dumb defence.
A late Summer's surge,
harshly the un-starred
kick those generic dustbin lids
crumpled again.
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 3:15 PM UTC
A true storyteller
always finds a way.
Like an entertainer
who delivers every day.
A true storyteller
Thinks freshly
like a Baptist preacher
who yells loudly.
A true storyteller
can turn a bad day
and make it sweeter
via a script into a play.
He can present tragedy
as a comic.
And deliver comedy
and remain stoic.
A true storyteller
is meticulous
as a new car dealer
is loquacious.
A true storyteller
never cares about his glory
or one particular character.
only the success of his story.
©️IB-Poetry
2/27/2018
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 10:20 AM UTC
Southeast, and storm, and every weathervane
shivers and moans upon its dripping pin,
ragged on chimneys the cloud whips, the rain
howls at the flues and windows to get in,
the golden rooster claps his golden wings
and from the Baptist Chapel shrieks no more,
the golden arrow in the southeast sings
and hears on the roof the Atlantic Ocean roar.
Waves among wires, sea scudding over poles,
down every alley the magnificence of rain,
dead gutters live once more, the deep manholes
hollow in triumph a passage to the main.
Umbrellas, and in the Gardens one old man
hurries away along a dancing path,
listens to music on a watering-can,
observes among the tulips the sudden wrath,
pale willows thrashing to the needled lake,
and dinghies filled with water; while the sky
smashes the lilacs, swoops to shake and break,
till shattered branches shriek and railings cry.
Speak, Hatteras, your language of the sea:
scour with kelp and spindrift the stale street:
that man in terror may learn once more to be
child of that hour when rock and ocean meet.
2.2k
Mahatma gnaws at World War hungers
Reincarnated forms of Wild West lungers
Spatially realigning to a kosher and beloved state
Krishna stands ignored, can’t help feeling irate
Walrus tusks dig into the carpenter’s brow
As an eight armed saint is revealed as a cow
Scriptures packed and rolled, exhaled in suspicion
Prophets praised for violence incurred, act of sedition
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
“Get ‘em up, Teacher.”
I felt the gun at my back and had no choice but to raise fingers, and said, “Got the drop on me, eh, Judas? Why don’t you pull the trigger?”
“Forget it. We’re going to Jerusalem where I’m going to turn you over to Herod. Pilate’s holding my gang and God knows what he’s doing to make them talk—only they don’t know anything, so they can’t talk. He’s torturing them for nothing but everybody knows the only thing he wants is to get his hands on you.
I’m going to see that he does. That will get him to cut loose my boys and take the heat off me too, see? It’ll be all over the papers when they crucify you.”
“And what will the papers say about you? You don’t know what you’re doing, Judas. Do you think the Romans will let your outfit run the territory?”
“Sure they will.”
“You’ll run it all right—run it right into the ground. You’re not ready for the big dominion, Judas. You’d be getting in over your head.”
“Quiet.”
“You know Herod gets his marching orders from Pilate and Pilate takes his orders from Caesar. Where do you fit in? You’re high and mighty now but those boys will wipe their boots on you and keep right on going. I didn’t come back to get served up on a silver platter. I came to dish it out. Nobody’s going to step on me and get away with it.”
“Quiet, I said. Now move,” he prodded with his pistol.
I walked a little but stayed close to the walls and he shoved me from behind to make me go faster, but he didn’t want me going too fast because that would attract attention.
He called out to the shadows, “Simon!”
There was no answer and he got nervous. “Simon,” he repeated, not wanting to yell out loud. He looked back and forth, taking his eyes off me for a second. I dropped, and swiping a foot beneath his legs toppled him to the ground. The pistol went off and ricocheted off the wall and I kicked the gun from his hand. Simon appeared with his hands held high, the Baptist behind him pushing him along with the business end of his rod.
“What do you want to do with them, Teacher?”
I felt sorry for the saps. They weren’t any better off than when they’d started.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 11:42 PM UTC
Remember when you were a child
And you answered back with "I don't care"
Well, it's high time you did
This is the time to care
With the corona virus attacking everyone in sight,
You have to care
IT DOESN'T CARE if you are Chinese, Spanish, American, Canadian, British, Australian, Korean.
IT DOESN'T CARE what color your skin is
Whether you are white, black, brown, yellow or blue
IT DOESN'T CARE if you are straight, gay, bisexual, trisexual, gender transitional
IT DOESN'T CARE if you like horses, or dogs, or cats, or fish or lemmings for that matter
IT DOESN'T CARE if you are a doctor, nurse, stay at home mom, teacher, warehouse worker, priest, homeless, bricklayer, hockey player, nun, librarian, store clerk
IT DOESN'T CARE if you are a celebrity, sports figure, local politician, have one friend or a thousand
IT DOESN'T CARE if you eat vegan, meat, have celiac disease, smoke, vape, eat through a tube
IT DOESN'T CARE if you believe in God, Buddha, are Jewish, Baptist, Agnostic, Atheist, Wiccan, or talk to the trees
GOT IT? IT DOESN'T CARE.
YOU SHOULD CARE.
You told your parents "I don't care". Well, you better start.
CARE about your family, friends, and yourself
CARE about your neighbors, their family, friends, and relatives
CARE about your work mates, their families, friends, and relatives
CARE about the front line workers, theirs families, friends and relatives
CARE about the world.
LISTEN AND LEARN. LISTEN AND DO. LISTEN AND CARE
Don't listen to blowhards who call it a hoax. IT DOESN'T CARE...it's waiting for you if you do
Don't follow the stupid internet suggestions like add bleach to your water. IT'S DOESN'T CARE...it's waiting for you too.
Don't plan on being in Church for Easter. IT DOESN'T CARE...It's waiting for you as well.
GET IT? FOLLOW THE WORDS OF THE MEDICAL EXPERTS, NOT THE POLITICIANS.
IT DOESN'T CARE who you listen to, but, It's waiting.
START CARING...NOW!!!
LISTEN, LEARN, DO AND CARE. STAY SAFE.
Mar 26, 2020
Mar 26, 2020 at 11:53 PM UTC
"It was just a joke, stop being so serious."
I haven't been to church since I was 14.
At age 7,
I was introduced to my new baptist church.
I recited scriptures and played game and was always excited to go.
At age 12,
I was heading into middle school and won the church's bible challenge.
I was queer, I was Christian, I was unexcited to go to church.
It felt like everyone was staring.
When I was 13,
I had my first kiss with a girl,
my first major girl crush,
my first run in with homophobia.
My classmate said **** off with someone else,
my church said mothers should protect their children from homosexuality.
I wondered what was wrong with that.
When I was 13,
I watched my mother clap to the pastor not knowing she had one.
I watched the youth church pastor make fun of queer kids, not knowing he had some in the room.
I watched a girl I knew was gay clap along like she wasn't one of them
-one of us.
When I was 13,
I watched my first crush date my best friend,
she didn't want anyone to know she was gay.
When I was 13,
I came out to my family.
When I was 14,
I went to church for one last time,
A woman prayed the devil take this phase out of me, and put the holy spirit in.
I broke down in Walmart afterwards.
My mother said I never had to go back to that church again.
I still have some dreams about it.
When I was 15,
I declared no religion, I declared no ties to anyone.
I was just black & queer.
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 6:32 PM UTC
Barack Obama, first US President of African origin.
Langston Hughes, earliest innovators of then-new literary jazz
poetry.
Angela Davis, African American political activist, and author
Coretta Scott King, author, activist, and civil rights leader
Katherine Johnson, African-American mathematician
Anita Baker, African American singer-songwriter
Muhammed Ali, African American professional boxer and activist
Erykah Badu, African American singer-songwriter activist
Rosa Parks, the mother of the freedom movement and civil rights
Ida B Wells, African-American journalist and feminist
Colin Powell, statesman and retired four-star general in US Army
Al Sharpton, civil rights activist and Baptist minister
Nelson Mandela, South African anti-apartheid revolutionary
political leader
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 2:47 PM UTC
Duke said,
“People pray in many different languages
and God hears them all.”
I’m equally a Jew and Muslim,
both living in perfect peace within me.
I’m a little bit Baptist and a little bit Episcopal.
I yearn to swim in the living waters,
and hunger for the cup and bread.
I’m more of a Quaker then a Buddhist.
Only because I’m American and I can’t speak good Chinese yet.
But Buddha’s Lamp is my constant companion,
illumining my every step in this dark world.
I’m also equally composed of east and west Indies
and sometimes even druid.
The Great Spirit and Tantric arts
remain mysteries to me.
I only know them by feeling.
And yes our Afro Heritage.
The drums, the whistle, the dance,
synchronizes our heart beat
to The Beneficent One’s finger taps.
Yes we celebrate The Holy Spirit
with cymbal, voice and drum.
I am a full dues paying member
to the 2nd Hoboken Chapter
of the Unitarian Universal Catholic Church Respectively.
We meet down the block from Sinatra’s Synagogue.
We are all apostles and responsible
for our small spaces that we rent here on earth.
I know I’m 100% Zoroastrian.
I am mesmerized by the fire.
My heart aches for the light.
I tend tiny candles
and listen for the lonely fire
of Coltrane’s sax.
I’m a nun and
a Thelonious Monk.
We run an inn for weary and lost travelers.
We build hospitals to cure the infirm;
and schools to teach the golden rule of love.
We try to do things differently.
Dizzy practiced the Behai faith.
“OOM BOP SHE BAM” I pray.
Music Selection:
Dizzy Gillespie,
Swing Low Sweet Cadillac
jbm
Oakland
12/26/98
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 8:29 AM UTC
With baptism, one identifies with The Christ,
mirroring His death, burial and resurrection;
in this symbolic gesture of Faith, one sees a
formal acknowledgment of His gift of Salvation.
This practice, instituted by John the Baptist,
teaches one to reflect on the sacred sacrifice-
that Christ -alone- redeemed all of Humanity
and that His unequaled actions will suffice
as the second Adam, for our enduring redemption.
Even Christ Himself, took this symbolic plunge.
Was this a mere watery dunking of His flesh?
Or did it prepare Him… to be able to expunge
the death penalty of sin for us permanently?
Therefore, I honor His act of propitiation-
by the baptism of my body before witnesses,
as I’m initiated today… into His Holy Nation.
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
John 3:25-36
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 11:43 AM UTC
I love my ladies in all kinds
But **** why must cougars blow my mind
I done seen alot of hot young girls and boy there fine
But as im looking at this cougar i rather have mine
Shoot i ll baptist myself in your water if that have me saved
A been a bad boy you can whip me till i behave
**** these cougar ladies is definrtly some to crave
And as a bonus you can use me as your personal *** slave
When im bad you can put it in my mouth
I mean force me till i swollow every bit
For my reward i get to **** but thats not it
As a women i know guys put you in alot of mess
So let my hands do all the talking they ll surely relive your stress
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 12:03 PM UTC