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Sara Skora Oct 2011
the blasphemer and the blushing bride
have no recollection of things like pride
one detests ceremony while the other revels
in vows and prayers and all such spells
one waits for a day of celebration and rejoices
the other rebels against insincere voices
and if the two were to ever meet
or stranger still to share the same seat
all feuds might be forgotten for the sake of the truth
whatever one chooses to believe in one's youth
the importance should be placed on agency
rather than the pomp of unsavory pageantry
Holy Monday
walking with
my dog in
the burbs

I spied
a palm frond
laying by
the curb

still moist
and pliant
fresh to
touch

what
blasphemer
discarded this
icon beloved
so much?

one day
removed
from
Palm
Sunday
glory

does the
heathen who
disposed of it
know this
precious
leaf’s
story?

it was then
I recalled
its reason
for being

its a carpet
for a King’s
footsteps
its not for
keeping

so there
it lay
where
it should
be

as my
dog and I
resumed
our closer
walk with
Thee

Music Selection: Willie Nelson
Just a Closer Walk With Thee

Oakland
4/2/12
jbm
Tasha Dec 2020
Angels cry in torment
Twisting and swirling through the thick black clouds
They curl their wings around the
Uncaring gravestones, crying for sanctuary
From their impassive god.
I watch as the reaper leans a hand across my bleeding eyes
And leads me away from the fury of wings
Beating across hollow bones-
As hollow as their halos.
sean rozario May 2010
adjacent at my right,
your thoughts with you are,
strewed in opposition,
calling out my name,
i am the child,
you are the adult,
why wont i understand,
for i have no experience,
no life lived,
my intrigue provoked,
ideal foresight,
but that, all they are,
questions to actions,
tell me im wrong,
just an ignorant soul,
for i must see the world,
the way that you do,
and for the sake of the horse,
hope the legs can support,
the stead in which you ride,
for it must be cold,
one thousand jen high,
should i bow at your feet?
as my opinion indifferent,
blasphemer,
heathen,
tell me to seal my mouth,
say "I dont listen",
over again,
you never heard the words,
"your hurting my chest",
stepping on my lungs,
hearing one phrase of words,
"you dont listen",
but i heard every word,
whether i agree or not,
is another lore,
but ill admit im wrong,
will you do the same?,
now i'll hope you know,
i judge you not,
i love that you have opinion,
for you are only human,
even if the whip strikes my back,
ill never stop,
continue your attack,
for these are my thoughts,
you made me this way,
you cant change my brain.
copyright 2010 s.Rozario
Kristina Ward Aug 2013
Wouldn't it be funny
If it were the Angels who were evil
And it were the Demons who were good?

What if God snapped
The Angels becoming a heavenly army of Light
And his word made the Demons seem the wrongdoers?

What if Lucifer wished for things
To become again as they once were
Beyond the Pearly Gates;

And his Demons were the ones
Who guarded humanity
In spite of the Angelic opposition?

Call me a heretic
But what if we have had it backwards
All along?
Amy Grindhouse Jan 2014
The number of universes
she had traveled was infinite
She couldn't stop thinking of you
in any of them
Overwhelmed Oct 2012
I am stuck in a part of my
life that nobody else is in

speaking a foreign tongue
repeating strange rituals
talking of places
most call imaginary
and dreaming dreams
in a sleepless
land

I am drifter and an outcast
a blasphemer to some
a prophet to others
but nobody
really knows
which

I am surrounded
but time is my only
companion

I beg them to understand
but they are not capable
they stare at me
and I stare back
both of us wide-eyed,
wondering, thinking in
our minds:

what savagery
thrives
here
JR Rhine Dec 2015
I felt God creep onto my shoulder
worming up my spine
snaking across my shoulder blade
before slithering and burrowing
into my shoulder

perched like a Gothic cemented gargoyle,
whispering adages like a scratched CD
I felt each repeat with a wince in the breach
of melody.

I try to take in my brother's words
with my full attention
but God is a gargoyle
perched upon my shoulder.

After awhile,
the weight becomes unbearable
and I'm wondering where Lucifer is
so to even the tension

but the wretched old gargoyle
sinks in ever deeper
and his voice now rises
from a hush to a raspy mutter.

He gargles the truth like he's
spitting out bloodied gravel
teeth cracked and tongue blackened
from the dirt and grime so caked

around his crusty lips twisting
rhyme and reason but I'm really trying
to listen to my sister tell her story
but God is a scornful old gargoyle
perched upon my shoulder.

His voice now rises from
a murmur to a shout
as fire and brimstone burst from
his foaming mouth

like a southern preacher
red-faced
saliva-stained corners of lips
snarling brandishing fangs

gnashing of coarsened tongue
whip crack snapping my thoughts
in
half
pouring dicta down the back

of my throat feeling
like mucus dripping slowly
preventing one from swallowing easily.
Adam's apple dances like a walk

across burning coals blindfolded--
desperate to focus, I lean in and
nod appropriately
to my good friend

ever hushed but in full confidence
of me as a listener and a confider
but God is a red-faced bespittled
Gargoyle perched upon my frail shoulder.

A shout now gives way to a shrill scream
as the behemoth grips the outer ridges
of my ears, sticks his head in
my ear canal and with a noise

travelling from ***** to stomach to chest
to throat and through the gaping mouth,
a deafening bellow penetrates my eardrums
as God curses me and my friend

to eternal damnation
for listening to such sinful acts
whilst holding "truth"
in my mind

like a forgotten check in the back pocket
of jeans in the rinse cycle at the laundromat
God, with jagged nails digging into cartilage
pulls wider sticks head in deeper

calls me a hypocrite,
and my friend:

******, ****, ******, liar,
cheater, blasphemer, drunk, *******,
adulterer, murderer, idolater, Democrat

unlovable.

I feel a tear reach the corner of my eye,
not because of a heart broken
for my friend's pain,
but because of the agony within

the stoop built of mortal flesh and bone
breaking down under the weight of
a vehement gargoyle claiming to be God
perched on my brittle shoulder.

The creature: abdominous, archaic,
feeding off ancient histories
embedded within fathers and sons
the passing of the torch obligatorily
  
handed down to every child
a Christmas present in the gleam of a golden cross (calf)
Mother and Father's heads lean in
with a smile stretched across their faces

watching as a curious youth
admires with awe
a shiny slender creature
bug-eyed

pearly teeth
looking up in fascination
crawls up onto your shoulder
at once so novel

but now you break down.

Standing up, you grab the ghastly gargoyle
around the waist--
he squirms and writhes
in your grip, hissing and spitting

its sick venom in your eye--
the creature living no longer
with childlike contempt
but with eyes opened to

its hatred and malice
you fling the beast so vile
from your presence
casting it into oblivion

you shed the weight
of such evil
and you sit down
to finally hear of your kinfolk's plight.

Wallowing in the throes of its host's absence,
the parasitic quadruped seeks behind the darkness
its next meal of mortal flesh and blood
amongst shadow armies of death: ravenous, cunning.
Legion.
My Jesus cannot be found in American Christianity, or in the history books of those who carried on the "White Man's Burden" in God's name, but he can be found amidst it all: weeping with the broken, loving the loveless, and bringing hope to the hopeless.
Geno Cattouse Oct 2013
I like mine two cream, two sugars my addiction sans friction.
You see coffee is my benediction to alphabet soup.
                                                                                                         Sing as song of sixpence.
                                                                                                         a pocket full of rye.
                                                                                                         four and twenty blackbirds
                                                                                                         baked in a pie.
Sister Loretta.That witch.
She gave me my first hit.
So long ago I had forgotten.
5 foot 2 eyes of blue. In a nun's habit.

I was all of eight years old and full blown away by the woman showing her chin and brow
in the Caribbean heat cool as the other side of the pillow Strange. Even then strange that a woman
would choose to dress in a black full length jacket that swept the ground as she walked.

Sweet as cane syrup. patient as a monk.
She gave me the love of words.

So Where is sister now I wonder ?
Probably pushing daises from under. That was many years ago.

Mia culpa. But I always wished for x-ray eyes. to see beyond her disguise.
Was she all woman or some holy mutation.
built to reject natural passion.
Mia culpa.
sister Loretta was forbidden fruit. One of god's many wives.
And I could only have one ?. Hmmmmm leme think this one over.

Blasphemer.
8 year old wood is hard to mess with.

Any dude out there who went to parochial school and did not have that one
on the replay spool, throw yer hands up.
.....That is what I thought.

Okay. just had my cuppa Joe.
And now I'm gonna let you go.
Just wanted you  all to know.

Sista Loretta was Smokin Hot.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2015
i usually take susie (4 bottles of beer) for a walk
in the rain, take the hood off, and don
my long multichrome brown hair
as a samurai bun to watch it rain heavy again,
smoking a cigarette at a bus stop
with the 'no smoking' sign without a fellow
passenger to actually for my privacy and being intrusive.

they really did it!
i swear on my heart of a scout they did,
they got frightened by the masses,
and created a very empty celebrity caste of people,
easily recognisable twits,
when then remembered the population tsunami,
they panicked and created them,
actors foremost, the easiest way to spread the lie,
they did it, and faked us into believing that
all of us were recognisable,
well at least in the jungle a baboon was a baboon,
but in the human kingdom, the side-effect
was talent shoes, misguided the plumber
into becoming a singer...
i wish it stayed like it did, like it was still:
zdrowie na budowie, nie w mafii (
health on a bulding site, not in the mafia)...
but alas, one born every second in china,
and one born every minute in europe...
who's keeping count? the clock isn't...
it broke when attempting to clock formula 1
circuits... down to the thirtieth second of 0.001...
a nervous breakdown in mechanical terminology...
but they really, really, really did do it,
concerning the 3rd commandment...
they took the tetragrammaton and took it out
from censorship with adam & eve...
they said jesus christ jesus christ jesus christ
in vain... so much in the vein of empty
that they morphed vanity into blasphemy...
say an arrangements of words using the words
jesus christ and you won't be called vain,
but blasphemous... a bit like those terrorists in the
active sutra of gunning people down -
the takbir (allahu akbar) - the people are calling
me a blasphemer, but i call them empty...
who's winning? you say the magic words long enough
and in multitude of its porcelain antique worth
and it will become it... a bit like words like
sun, apple, worm, ******* et al. congregating
on the altar of philosophy with the equivalent
communicative word of *thing
keeping them in its
*****... the 3rd commandment means don't use
my name a lot, i'm busy, i'm a supra-verb
(always busy), keep naming with the atomists...
but then you misguided the term vanity,
and changed it to mean brimming to the edge
as a way to state a blasphemy...
when a vain use of a god's name becomes meaningless
due to overuse... it becomes a blasphemy to use it...
the hebrews rarely use what's already censored
like in christianity the words **** & ****...
ooh... we are convinced of being offended!
you offended me already... you censored words
and only came up with statues of squares...
ask the mathematicians... they drew a square quicker
than you moulded one for trafalgar sq.
the 3rd commandment does not mention anything
about being blasphemous about the name,
it means using it to use it to no gain...
meaning that the name is empty...
i guess moses and elijah also had the greek surname
christ attached to them.

*your blasphemy is the ultimate curse / vanity,
it's so empty when you use it,
it makes using other words feel cardinal,
and you the bishops still use them,
it's easy creating a religion from a child's gift
later lost and gained as a cross...
catholicism is the ultimate theocratic democracy,
where the non-existence of the thus state
allows for symbolic identifiable bureaucracy...
you used those words in vain...
thus you entered the 0.1 realm of blasphemy...
the christians are on the realm 9.9...
because they use the words jesus christ in vain,
and thus blaspheme in order to censor
their vocabulary... thus making casual words
seemingly unholy, even with all the science
concerning their concentrated apple juice cartons.
Elijah Corbeau May 2014
This forced swinging from high to low
with emotion as my rope;
Perhaps but to fall, the ebb and flow
of a drama of a grand scope:

-

Midnight and the moons resounding note
waning like memories of her caress,
Then-
"Thy soul be sundered; thy life 'tis smote-
Your love 'twas simply in jest!"
Fearfully I cried under a frightful duress-
"Who art thou, wicked seraph! Fiend indeed!!
Why, why should you call my distress?
In my hour of loss, my hour of need?"
It then said, 'Thy know, thy soul I read-
Blasphemer! Defiler of a chaste life!
Sin tis your cover, desire your breed,
To be covetous of anothers wife!"
Furious was my speech - "Take thy seraphic knife,
Let us clash, I shall not fall!
Thou art simply a portent of strife;
Thou hast no honor, no higher call!"
Claimed I, "Thou art not in God's thrall!
Thou art a menace black and seedy,
To come before me with such gall,
to come before a man so needy!"
A horrible visage then arose before me,
Terrifying! This angel of doom-
The moon 'twas struck, lay bleeding-
It's light red, fading soon...
A soul of the darkest gloom,
This being 'twas not ordained!
Beneath the light of the hemorrhaging moon,
I saw what it seeked to gain!
This monster, it fed off of pain,
I cried, "Thou art surely craven!
Thy knife hast many stains,
But how art thou so boldly brazen?
Perhaps hailing from some deathly haven,
or heaven tormented, I know thy measure!
I do know ye, sinful, lust-torn maven,
Forsake sustenance from my pleasure!
Be gone! Shatter thy earthly tether!
Back!" I shrieked- "Away from this plane!"
Whether Angel sent, or Devil, whether
Freudian delusion or Jobs game!
Love and sin art not the same!
So cast off of me your burdened guilt-
Love blooms wildly, it's vines my veins,
And from stronger feelings 'tis built!
I shall not be cursed by passions blame,
and my love shall never wilt!
From Valkyrie Profile! Inspired by Lezard Valeth - Great Character!
God's Oracle Apr 2021
Lord I come to you to speak boldly about my current situation...I am conflicted and perplexed in how deeply I have broken my self into a futile infantile parasite I sadly realize I am. I am frustrated and saddened that my drug addiction keeps me at edge between that my ADHD Schizophrenia and Night Terrors I have meet my match. At the current moment facing eviction, homelessness, and pervasive persistent negative attitude I have acquired over the years of someone else always doing for me what I ought to do for my ******* self. I don't exercise much...quite a homebody/couch-potato/slob I have become. I am lazy, irresponsible, messy, poor hygiene at times I have practiced...cuss like a sailor, negligent, indifferent, stuck in a maladaptive lifestyle that as time ticks on the problems grow bigger and bigger...I use drugs to wear the mask of "Normalcy" & "Success" yet I know am lying to my **** self every time I cover up my TRUE identity hidden from the public deep within layers of a tormented and vindictive past. Contemplating onto making and forming a solid decision to go get myself some help from a rehabilitation facility but that is all too familiar and don't guarantee my success into beating my addiction and arresting my inner deep and personal struggles I wrestle with on the daily...to my Lord is The Christ,who came and was and is and will forever stand as being the identical incarnation of the father image, conduct and become nothing...being subsurvient to the fathers will becoming a man of excellency of character, inpeccable radiance, unsurpasable  holiness, being made into an anoited vessel heal the sick, show the lost a way to redeem the gift of eternal life, love us as we were desperately drownding and needing of a savior the Son Of Man, The Christ, Apointed to fulfill Scripture, Selfless, Holy, Perfect... God's Only Begotten Son the primordial Creation who all things were made for him, thru him by him. Jesus Christ the One who came to fulfill the Law be born blameless, holy and perfect. He allowed Judas Iscariot be influenced by the Devil and be blinded by alluring him with the promise of payment. In the last supper Jesus Christ mentioned to the 12 the one who dips with me this piece of bread into this morsel will be the one to betray me and turn me in to the authorities as a blasphemer. Then Judas Iscariot at that moment the Devil entered Judas in that same instant he extends his left hand and dips his bread along with Jesus. Then the 11 remaining look into Jesus and Judas...at that very moment he dismissed Judas Telling him...something along this lines...Do it and do it quickly giving permission for him to be handed to authorities... Judas left and came back with soldiers then turned to Jesus kissed him with the kiss of death on the side of his face. With that the Soldiers singled out Jesus out of the 12. Took him to be interrogated with Herodias yet he found no fault in Jesus. Next day took him to The Chief Of The Pharasies. The Magistrate spat on Jesus for saying " He was who they claiming" immediately several Pharasies including the Magistrate's tore their clothing and yelled loudly ... "Blasphemer" & The Lord remained quiet then right away after enduring being flogged, humiliated, tortured till being taken to Poncious Pilate. There my Lord sustained an extreme amount of horrifying torture. Naturally the Devil influeced the croud to pick the murderous Barrabas to be liberated and the Christ to be handed over to suffer crucifixion. In the tragic end he died hanging on that old rugged cross. Nevertheless, 3 days later was glorified, the first among the dead to be ressurrected. Tranfiguration for Christ wasn't yet complete. The prophets remained accompanying the Lord till they saw him return to heaven. May the Father,Son and Holy Ghost Reign Forevermore Amen!!!
Surely, I tell you Christ Lives.
PERTINAX Jun 2017
His words fell hollow
Upon
Empty
Minds
Incapable of discerning
Greater meaning
Than what ignorance
Allows
,Faith,
It seems
Holds a monopoly
Against reason
Setting men to war and ******
**** and slaughter
In the name of a being
Unseen
Incorporeal
Yet infallible in the eyes of many
Who
For any other wont
Excuse their failings
Misgivings
Illfortunes
Not on the merit of their worth
But instead
How low they kneel
Serve
Slave
To the wishes of the word
Indoctrinated
To ignore wisdom
Trivial to their pursuit
Of blood
Hatred
Deceit
That they so easily condemned
The man
Whose hollow words
Swung silent
As he hung in the gentle breeze
Rope
Around
Neck
To a chorus of cheers
BLASPHEMER!
BLASPHEMER!
Never stopping to consider
The saviour they just hanged
Choose your words wisely.
Alex Gifford Dec 2020
Bound and led the quiet man,
delivered up to me.
"Put him to death, the blasphemer",
was the people's plea.

My wife sent word to wash my hands,
she suffered in a dream.
I tried with water before the mob,
it didn't make me clean.

I put a sign above the cross,
the one I made him bring.
I killed a greater man than I,
he truly was the king.
This is about Pontius Pilots internal conflict when he sent Jesus to be crucified.
Henry Mar 2020
Shall I compare thee to a broken watch
A piece of garbage all but twice a day
Existing to be broken on the rocks
Remember the father and where he lay
But gone is the age of the stoics babe
Now rust and rot control the fall of glass
Not one was witness to the violet grave
Except the people in the razor grass
But nothing's nice under an ochre sky
Although your sickened tick is worse than most
And you betray the father with your lie
As if his sacrifice was but a joke
A life in the waves could pay all your dues
Best get comfy in your new concrete shoes
1/17/20
The Yellow Sky #1
forestfaith Jan 2019
how?
how do you love us crawling creatures?
destined to burn in hell.
why do you love us when we hated you?
how did you love ungrateful brats like us?
how did you have the love to send your own? very own Son, your only Son, to die for us?
when our fingers could trigger guns and it kills.
when our mouths and tongues, we choose to spell death...
when our backs we choose to turn away from you.

how...can it be?
that a KING would die for ME.
that he will die for a killer, abuser, liar, blasphemer, ungrateful creatures, ***** thinkers, lovers of darkness, a deceiver, a pretense, a past-tense, an empty shell.
you filled me up.

we have the capacity, to be worse than a meer ******.
****** would look like a drummer boy.
how evil is our *****, twisted, darkened, chained-up hearts?
how deceitful are its slippery jaws of blackened teeth dripping with death?

the pride made our eyes puffed up with fat.
unable to see the net we set up in front of ourselves.
how foolish.
how proud.
we think we deserve even a life.
we don't

if you see the sin in yourself?
you would agree.

yet.
YET.
The Father
sent
his
One
and
Only
Son
To Die
For
Me
and
You

He REPLACED your place on that cross, on that grave, on the day, on that cursed tree.
it was supposed to be you and me.
he died for me and you when it is that we should be the ones dying.

open up your eyes!
open up your hearts!
open up your hearts!
open up your eyes!
open up your ears and hear!
open up your hearts and receive Him!!!

i have seen dead shells come to life and are filled!
i have seen blind eyes filled with the shimmering of life!
i have seen hardened hearts change!
i have seen the wonderful bundles of life he creates in the wombs of mothers!
i have seen the dead turned to life
i have seen his glory.
i have felt his presence.
He is so real...
i couldn't deny it.
believe it.

He is calling for you
inviting you in
its your choice to let him in or not...
Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.
-John 14:6

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was with God in the beginning. 3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. 4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome[a] it.
John 1:1-5

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, 2 because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you[a] free from the law of sin and death. 3 For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh,[b] God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to be a sin offering.[c] And so he condemned sin in the flesh, 4 in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.

5 Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the flesh desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. 6 The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace. 7 The mind governed by the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so. 8 Those who are in the realm of the flesh cannot please God.

9 You, however, are not in the realm of the flesh but are in the realm of the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God lives in you. And if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, they do not belong to Christ. 10 But if Christ is in you, then even though your body is subject to death because of sin, the Spirit gives life[d] because of righteousness. 11 And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of[e] his Spirit who lives in you.

12 Therefore, brothers and sisters, we have an obligation—but it is not to the flesh, to live according to it. 13 For if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live.

14 For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. 15 The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship.[f] And by him we cry, “Abba,[g] Father.” 16 The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. 17 Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.

Present Suffering and Future Glory
18 I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. 19 For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. 20 For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21 that[h] the creation itself will be liberated from its ******* to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.

22 We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. 23 Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? 25 But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

26 In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. 27 And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.

28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who[i] have been called according to his purpose. 29 For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. 30 And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.

More Than Conquerors
31 What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32 He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? 33 Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. 34 Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. 35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36 As it is written:

“For your sake we face death all day long;
    we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”[j]
37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[k] neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
-Romans 8

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. 2 He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes[a] so that it will be even more fruitful. 3 You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. 4 Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
-John 15:1-4

Then Jesus declared, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.
- John 6:35

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. 2 Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.
Romans 12:1-2

For there is one God and one mediator between God and mankind, the man Christ Jesus,
- 1 Timothy 2:5

16 For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. 17 For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. 18 Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because they have not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son.
-John 3:16-18
Elizabeth Ortigo Jan 2013
I breathe You in.
I take a deep breath and Your presence fills me.
You are beautiful. Masterful.
Awesome. Worthy of praise.
Holy.
Your grace moves me to tears.
I am so undeserving. You love me anyway.
How could I ask for anything more?

But You've given me so much more!
Peace! Joy! Blessings uncountable! Songs to sing! Family! Friends!
Forgiveness.
The greatest gift of all, given freely to me.
A sinner.
A blasphemer. An adulterer. A liar.
A lazy, prideful woman.

You see through all the sin to the woman You created me to be:
A mighty woman of God, with faith as unwavering as the rising Sun.
You are my rock. My foundation.
My Redeemer. My Lord.
Malia Kay Lewis Apr 2010
Should have stayed benevolent through it all
But I let my venom course it's way through my own veins,
Poisoning all with my bite.

I am a dracula, blasphemer, killer, liar, emotional tourist...
an Eve, a serpent's pet.

And it's just that when I am on fire
it's hard to put me out.

I feel like the bitter ghost of a woman
that descends over calm waters
and spews forth her black-tongued
malice.

I never even recognized the poison
in my own heart.

And I shall die this way.
Overwhelmed Jan 2011
“hell,
is your destination.”
he says
to me
so sure in his
rightousness
that he does not
consider
his acid-throwing
even possibly
wrong

“you sinner!
you blasphemer!
you blatant and
obvious servant
of Lucifer!”

“burn,
you shall,
in the depths
of the devil’s
cavern!”

“you should know
better
than to ally with
anyone else
but Him”

“beg God,
beg Him,
for forgiveness
and maybe,”

“just maybe,”

“you might
live in limbo
or correct
yourself within
purgatory”

“confess yourself,
young sinner!
confess yourself
and be free!”

he yells to me

so what you say,
I respond,
is that
I cannot
be anything else
but hell-
spawn?

for what?

for doing what
I think is right?

for coming up
with my own ideas?

for thinking that,
perhaps,
I can be happy
without an
imaginary
friend?

“IMAGINARY?”

yes!
yes,
imaginary!
fake!
ma­de-up!
a fallacy!
an abortion
of some terrified
cave-man’s
brain!

He
is not
real
but we,
we are!

“you’re going to hell”
he muttered
under his
breath

no I’m not!
I responded
I’ll just be
dirt and
dust and
be fine
with that

what better heaven could there be?
Joseph Sinclair Oct 2014
By John Reed

To Lincoln Steffens


SOMEWHERE I read a strange, old, rusty tale
Smelling of war; most curiously named
The Mad Recreant Knight of the West.
Once, you have read, the round world brimmed with hate,
Stirred and revolted, flashed unceasingly         
Facets of cruel splendor. And the strong
Harried the weak …
                    Long past, long past, praise God,
In these fair, peaceful, happy days.

                            The Tale:         
      Eastward the Huns break border,
        Surf on a rotten ****;
      They have murdered the Eastern Warder
        (His head on a pike).
      “Arm thee, arm thee, my father!         
        Swift rides the Goddes-bane,
      And the high nobles gather
        On the plain!”

      “O blind world-wrath!” cried Sangar,
        “Greatly I killed in youth;         
      I dreamed men had done with anger
        Through Goddes truth!”
      Smiled the boy then in faint scorn,
        Hard with the battle-thrill;
      “Arm thee, loud calls the war-horn         
        And shrill!”

      He has bowed to the voice stentorian,
        Sick with thought of the grave—
      He has called for his battered motion
        And his scarred glaive.         
      On the boy’s helm a glove
        Of the Duke’s daughter—
      In his eyes splendor of love
        And slaughter.

      Hideous the *** advances         
        Like a sea-tide on sand;
      Unyielding, the haughty lances
        Make dauntless stand.
      And ever amid the clangor,
        Butchering *** and ***,         
      With sorrowful face rides Sangar
        And his son….

      Broken is the wild invader
        (Sullied, the whole world’s fountains);
      They have penned the murderous raider         
        With his back to the mountains.
      Yet though what had been mead
        Is now a ****** lake,
      Still drink swords where men bleed,
        Nor slake.         

      Now leaps one into the press—
        The hell ’twixt front and front—
      Sangar, ****** and torn of dress
        (He has borne the brunt).
      “Hold!” cries, “Peace! God’s peace!         
        Heed ye what Christus says—”
      And the wild battle gave surcease
        In amaze.

      “When will ye cast out hate?
        Brothers—my mad, mad brothers—         
      Mercy, ere it be too late,
        These are sons of your mothers.
      For sake of Him who died on Tree,
        Who of all creatures, loved the least—”
      “Blasphemer! God of Battles, He!”         
        Cried a priest.

      “Peace!” and with his two hands
        Has broken in twain his glaive.
      Weaponless, smiling he stands—
        (Coward or brave?)         
      “Traitor!” howls one rank, “Think ye
        The *** be our brother?”
      And “Fear we to die, craven, think ye?”
        The other.

      Then sprang his son to his side,         
        His lips with slaver were wet,
      For he had felt how men died
        And was lustful yet;
      (On his bent helm a glove
        Of the Duke’s daughter,         
      In his eyes splendor of love
        And slaughter)—

      Shouting, “Father no more of mine!
        Shameful old man—abhorr’d,
      First traitor of all our line!”         
        Up the two-handed sword.
      He smote—fell Sangar—and then
        Screaming, red, the boy ran
      Straight at the foe, and again
        Hell began….         

Oh, there was joy in Heaven when Sangar came.
Sweet Mary wept, and bathed and bound his wounds,
And God the Father healed him of despair,
And Jesus gripped his hand, and laughed and laughed….
This is intended to be included in the collection entitled Cultured Pearls which is to be devoted to poetry by poets other than myself that has had some special meaning for me.
Overwhelmed Jan 2011
music notes
on a musician’s
libel

hunter’s bow
on a hunter’s
clothes

***** shoes
on a *****
man

a chair’s legs
on a god’s
body

a pope’s declaration
on a blasphemer’s
cry

an english ship
on a world’s
sea

a child’s book
on a child’s
desk

a belonging to,
and reflection of,
thyself
David Backer Jul 2011
They said the Storm was coming.
The sky was darkening, the sun was blotted out.
I heard only the wind, felt only rain on my naked body
The scent of the four winds permeated my nostrils
And I looked into your eye.
And I smiled.

They said the Storm was coming,
That the end is at hand.
And the children, eyes open wide with fear
Turned to their fathers, and their mothers,
To their sisters and brothers,
And they fled.

They said the Storm was coming.
I replied, “But there’s naught to fear!
These men will tell you nothing but lies!”
They turned to me, labeled me a heretic and a blasphemer
And they pierced me with ten thousand blazing swords
And I bled.

They said the Storm was coming.
So I fled from my home, taking nothing with me.
As I ran, the rains began to fall. Lightning rent the heavens asunder.
The glorious noise of thunder and water filled my soul
As I drank in the glories of what I beheld,
And I wept.

They said the Storm was coming.
And as the spirits of the Storm coursed through my veins
I remembered what those who pointed their fingers at me had said.
“The Storm is coming! It is not safe! Only with us can you truly live!  
Give us your silver and your gold, your sons and daughters, your staffs and your animals! The Storm is coming!”
But I am already here.
Sometimes you need to go against what others try to convince you is best, and you need to run away into the heart of the Storm to see why the Lightning seems so excited to be a part of it.
TheTinkler May 2016
Mlasphemer,
Blasphemer,
God is our voice.

Forget the New Testament,
He who walks behind the rows,
Mestify, to Testify.
To cram a boy
There is a battle inside that no one can deny.
My strength is failing on every single try.
Lord, I am so confused; I just don’t see the light.
Inside is like a hurricane, and every breath brings a fight.
I cannot tell what is up and what is down anymore;
These feelings lead me in circles. I don’t what they’re for!
Lord, I really what to do things Your way,
But I can barely live with myself today!
Lord, please hear this sinner’s plea.
I need You so desperately to change me!
One day I will be running closer to You and Your place;
Then the very next moment I will fall and make myself a disgrace.
What hurts me the most is that I know what I ought to do,
But I know that all I do, I should do it for You:
But how can I do such wickedness for the Holiest of Holies!
I know He knows I am just like all those phonies.
Lord, I know I am so far from where I should be;
I should be able to hear You talking in me.
Oh how weak is my faith Lord!
Strengthen me by Your Word!
Lord my failings are so many I cannot even list them;
My heart grows heavy because I cannot fix them.
Lord please search me and know my heart;
From today may You be my continual start.
Lord I long so lustfully for what is not mine.
I need You to break this from me, I am Your vine!
Lord, my prayer to You is that You will just have Your way in me
I have lived long enough to find out that all I am is nothing without Thee!
Have mercy on such a wicked blasphemer such as I;
May You be my God and cause me to forever in Your arms lie!!
TERRY REEVES Feb 2016
MaC WAS IN YEMEN, SYRIA, IRAQ, LIBYA AND AFGHANISTAN,
WHAT A MESS - IT MUST BE SORTED AS QUICK AS HE CAN,
HE HAD A MEETING WITH A MILITANT LEADER - 'WHO ARE YOU?'
'MY NAME IS MaCINTYRE - I REPRESENT GOD,
YOU CAN CALL ME A HERETIC, BLASPHEMER IF YOU WISH
BUT IN TWENTY FOUR HOURS THERE WILL BE NOTHING FROM YOUR SATELLITE DISH - THE CREATOR IS TIRED OF YOUR INSUBORDINATION,
YOU'VE HAD EVERY CHANCE BUT MESSED UP SINCE YOUR CREATION;
YOU WILL BE REDUCED TO ROBOTS - ONLY MEASURED CONTROL,
FREE - WILL IS FINISHED - WE HAVE POSSESSION OF YOUR SOUL,
THE SAME MISTAKES WILL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN, EVERYTHING
WILL BE TAKEN FROM YOU - THERE IS NOTHING LEFT FOR YOU TO DO;
IF WE EVER GIVE YOU FREE - WILL AGAIN, EVERY TIME YOU DISSENT,
YOU WILL BE 'CLICKED' - NOTHING OF THE OLD MINDSET WILL REMAIN.
rin Apr 2016
who are you trying to convince when you say you don't love her anymore?
you hiss it out with whatever breath your dirt-filled lungs have left
they say the devil first appeared as a serpent with a forked tongue
and he has four names: the Liar, the Thief, the Blasphemer, the Angel
if you've forgotten that sinners once saw heaven too
then you're no better than the jealous gods she's never gotten on her knees for
the truth has never known the backs of your teeth, but her name has
though slick with embalming fluid, she'd still kiss that wretched mouth
even if it's been known to whisper sweeter things to corpses
there are still pieces of her bones that miss fragments of your flesh
would you die for her? ... too late
thoughts of her have already suffocated you, though her fingers never touched your throat
treasures gained by wickedness do not profit you
and righteousness delivers you from a certain death
imperfect love is the root of all evil, and you crave it like honey
you crave what is not yours so you let her go as soon as you grasp her
because it feels better when you steal her heart
instead of it being place in your palms, still aching for a vessel
if you'd ever swallow your own words, you'd find they taste like poison
but you've never shut your mouth and instead let the sacrilege drip down your chin
it's creating puddles, pools, oceans and you love to hear her drowning
don't you know her name is sacred? why are you throwing it around like scraps?
she is tenderest flesh, the finest feast and you've spit her out like bitter bile
it's a **** good thing she's already chewed up
grab your rosary, spineless coward, repent! repent! repent!
you'll beg for forgiveness when you realize that purgatory isn't a void
rather an endless list of every place you wanted to touch her while you were both alive
the spaces between her ribs, the hollow of her cheeks, her lungs
she would've told you that you could do those things before her mouth got wired shut
but now it's too late, now you're just coffin-dwelling lovers, you can't hear
her whisper the one thing you loved the most: her poems
Greyisntwell Sep 2020
Solitary sinner in a God-fearing world
Heretic to some
Blasphemer to others

Mirror mirror
Is this my disguise
The disguise to hide
To hide- the anger
To hide- the guilt
To hide- the shame
Half God, half devil

This is the role we were meant to play
My roots are cut off at the base
My fight isn't against the world
My fight is with the demons within
My blade is stronger
My wounds lie deeper
Mirror mirror

Can I face this disguise
I show the world?
Tired of fighting back
Tired of lieing to others
Kurt Philip Behm May 2019
Back in their nests,
  birds chirping out loud
Retreated in bed,
  a boy dreams ‘what if now’
The moonlight not finished,
  what it started before
The church clothes all hanging,
  alone on the door
What once was thought ended,
  began then again
What never befriended,
   a new search to begin
The glass from the parlor,
  the long darkened hall
Reflections of squalor,
  distant riches to call
A bell starts to ring,
  signaling all bets are off
As a meadowlark sings,
  of eternity’s cost
The revelers revel,
  the sanguine proclaim
As the church starts to fill,
  and they’re calling his name
Any proof in the pudding,
  has now curdled and soured
As the chalice is filled,
  with a vision most dour
The mood is entranced,
  as time starts to drip
The minutes and hours,
   all scattered in bits
The reasons no matter,
  alone as before
And all sanity worships,
  death closing the door
Your collar goes on,
  white starched and unblessed
Your sermon made ready,
  for those still to behest
And what might you offer,
  where the prisoners hide
What salvation is proffered,
  when funded by lies
The eyes looking back,
  fixed distant and low
The eyes looking back,
  from the pews far below
Surrounded by elders,
and deacons to scold
His eyes were then only,
  but thirteen years old
The distance seemed fatal,
  the distance seemed grim
But now looking down,
  it was all about him
To one then so young,
  and so new and so fresh
Still wanting to believe,
  in not leaving the nest
Surrounded by neighbors,
  deceivers and friends
Dressed all in his finest,
  his hair slicked on end
His eyes remained down,
as his thoughts drifted up
His face never frowned.
  as your sermon erupts
“And what must this youth,
  think of me on this day”
Your collar getting tighter,
  praying mantis to prey
The height differential,
  the power sublime
The stairs leading up,
  for the blind to then climb
And once at the top,
  all so distant below
And once at the top,
  nothing there left to know
The birds dare not enter,
  the hawk or the dove
The cougar at center,
  devoid of all love
The peacocks outside,
  all withered and gray
The peacocks remembered,
  in colors portrayed
The hand bills were placed,
  at the end of the pews
A message designed,
  to riddle the stew
Caught up in the fable,
  caught up in the lie
To burn down the stable,
   horses scream as they fry
But the truth knows its teller,
  …that told in the end
Whose message is heaviest,
   where meaning transcends
Belonging to no-one,
  to you least of all
And to only itself,
  as the just heed its call
The blamer blasphemer,
  false prophet and *****
Silent screams from the pews,
  that they need something more
And in private you suffer,
  with a collar so tight
While in public you bombast,
  to portend and to fright
The law here unlettered,
  the reason unschooled
All souls once unfettered,
  no one left to rule
You know your time’s short now,
  all sins in the brine
That boy just below you,
   to always remind
You start at the beginning,
  you restart at the end
You start where you stopped,
  to get lost once again
As your powerful confusion,
  escapes you today
Using cryptic delusion,
  to parry and feign
Beget not the begotten,
  claiming all for yourself
All virtue forgotten,
  all feeling unfelt
If it mattered whenever,
  if it mattered at all
That meaning is hidden,
   as you struggle and fall
Accuse if you must,
  saying again to yourself
Betrayal acutely,
   is gifted unfelt
Benediction now burning,
  communion’s last host
All tides begin turning,
  more meaning to toast
The blend is left thickening,
  ruination sublime
Intention the most wicked,
  unfiltered unkind
The brave don’t get braver,
  as cowards rejoice
A knave in the shadows,
  to hide from his voice
The bend in the circumstance,
  the straightening lie
The clue that was missing,
  its poisoned reply
Walk down from your pulpit,
  those steps that won’t end
The pride and the fury,
  you stole to pretend
Looking out at the parishioners,
   his eyes are still down
And you know without asking,
  that his soul has left town
As you take your last breath,
  speaking then your last word
What once was a boy,
  separates from the herd
He gets up, turns and leaves,
  without once looking back
Your collar chokes fatally,
  his rejection attacks
The gathering outside,
  all merry and gay
The most devout neighing,
  like a horse in new hay
The church social breakfast,
    all slaps on the back
“Another great sermon, Parson,
  we had to hold our tears back”
A boy heads down the lane,
  head neither bowed nor *****
No breakfast for him,
  all celebration dissects
Knowing what he now feels,
  you will never beguile
Walking in through the back door,
  his elderly aunt smiles
Asking, “Is everything alright
  you’ve been gone quite a spell”
Her concern most maternal,
  in her thoughts he would dwell
He answers, “Everything’s fine,
  as his father distills
And closes the window,
  saying: “It’s starting to chill”
He walks up thirteen stairs,
  and lays down on the bed
Looking straight up above him,
  a floating image now dead
Asleep before noon,
  in his dream meets his peace
Knowing surrounded by doom,
  he must now leave this place
He is up before dawn,
  and back out on the lane
One sack over his shoulder,
  one orphan to claim
And the walk to the harbor,
  is rocky and steep
His trek ever steadfast,
one promise to keep
Signing on to the first ship,
  that’s now setting sail
Setting a course that’s uncharted,
  in a sea of travail
The clouds ever darker,
  the waves though they fall
His soul is on fire,
  his spirit on call
With the ship disappearing,
  beyond sight of all land
His future now clear,
  his mission at hand
That first day on board,
  and first night below deck
Were the first that had ever,
  held him safe in their net
With dawn’s light he climbed,
  to the crow’s nest above
And said ‘Thank You” to no-one,
  his future ungloved
And he sat there for hours,
  till his name was called out
His past now a memory
  —his heart free of doubt

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2014)

— The End —