"godless" poems
A strange weather pattern
Appears up in the sky,
And a strange sludge splatters
Into onlooking eyes.
Menstrual matter falls
From the great godless clouds,
The people struck with awe
As they run, scream alloud.
A trickle turned downpour
Of radiated blood,
Now drowning in a storm
That yields a *** flood.
Dropping violently in pints, gallons, and leagues
We become fossils under a ************ sea.
Jul 3, 2010
Jul 3, 2010 at 6:50 PM UTC
I approach most desires
like a competition; can I
**** better than him;
can I be famous at twenty-
-three since he was famous at
twenty-four -- I must be able
to sink better than him.
God, it is exhausting. I
feel like I'm dancing with
a machine; a phantom that
I can never catch, for it runs
on my blood; my insecurities;
my passion -- and, boy, oh boy,
can I attest to having plenty of
that stuff, ladies and germs.
I think, truly, that I am
encompassing the American Dream
I think is utterly flawed; that I think
is futile in nature; that I am sure of
is the closest thing to Hell, in this
Godless, spiritually motherless
dark shoebox of sudden collisions;
this space of useful and useless
results, splayed onto and into
our hearts, asking for reverence.
There is nothing I want more
than to be sure that my importance
is not illusory. I am not sure if
I am real.
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC
I burnt down the metal cage
that confined me
I have broken up with God
and I am blossoming
without his hand pushing
my head down
I eat blackberries straight from
the bush
tasting the dirt where they grew
the tightest bud bursting
into fruit that nurtures me
that sustains me
I am Godless and cageless
I am a woman of
flames, starting fires
wherever I go
burning, burning, turning
into ash
into the very dirt I courted
with my purple stained
lips
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
This is for my generation.
A generation full of selfies, in short for selfish.
A generation of women murdering their own unborn babies.
Woman walk around half dressed hoping a man will grant them respect.
As they reclaim their lives, renaming it feminism at it's best.
This is for my generation.
A generation of men that rather play with their hands.
Rather than creating work out of their bare hands.
Lusting for women as if we were created for one night stands.
We are the millennials. We're full of worldly distractions.
Looking for our parents to be the lending tree.
Since we spend most of our money on ***** & ****
This is for my generation.
Can't you see we're slowly dying off? We are becoming too self involved.
While every pleasure keeps causing our own demise.
We're too stubborn to realize our ways are flawed.
We mask it and look for love in other people. Yet, we feel emptier when the love isn't reciprocated. Some call this "unrequited love".
This is for my generation.
I'm here to tell you that, you are loved, you are cherished, and you can be forgiven. You can be saved, not by your works or how much money you make.
If you only believe what He did for you on the cross.
The perfect blood Atonement.
We are the Godless generation. Most would say they believe in evolution, perhaps others would mention God.
This is for my generation.
See, Jesus didn't come for the religious people. In fact, he called them frauds. He's more than just a bunch of rules and laws. In reality, He only came to save the lost. Which lead him to be hated, beaten and killed on a cross. 3 days later, He rose from the dead something Allah never did.
Now that our King is risen, He's offering a free gift of salvation. That's why it's called Grace. Being coming Christian doesn't make you perfect, don't get it twisted. I'm just a forgiven sinner by His definition.
The choice is yours.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 3:43 AM UTC
Godless godly engine
Dreams its fuel for
entertainment
and call it at
art
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
Give him a skinhead, insignia, boots
Less scruples, a swagger-stick, crowds, money.
No black shirts visible. Just business suits,
and pride is restored: tragic but funny.
Proud like a skyscraper, godless as sin
Babylonian promises, towering lies
Reality shows when plutocrats win,
Their rhetoric raining from empty skies.
She-wolves, elected by uninformed sheep
behave predictably, eyeing the flock
Their wool (and the lamb-chops) are hers to keep
Grazing voter—this should come as no shock.
It’s a bitter pill (more like pilloried)
So shall we now be ******* or Hillary-ed?
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 8:59 PM UTC
God said,
-through the Shaikh...
..be He blessed,
The news has come to me about the kind of calamity that will befall Baghdad.
Offering a supplication on behalf of the inhabitants of the city, praying they be spared. Saying, as God, dejected;
*Be my life for indeed someone in this city deserves to be killed and crucified! For one individual whom YOU honor, like thousands of others whom YOU shall have destroy them; You make us suffer for THEIR sins?*
WHAT HAVE THEY DONE?
YOU *have melted the pieces into ingots of the Godless and men?
You try to compete with the Prophets?
You claim to miracles?
You believe you speak the Word?
That you represent, in doing, by action?
Nay, -you serve the Jinn!*
This is the end of an Age,
Hypocrite!
Vanity is your loss.
* *...be not a deceiver...
(85:20)* *
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 2:29 AM UTC
You called me a god and I believed you and I thought you would always wait for me thought your love for me was infinite texted you drunk because you can't judge me I judge you that's how this works but I remember when you said you were an atheist and I realized that I am a human just like you and when given enough time you can overcome any obstacle and I was the biggest one in your way so you went around me and now I am alone and godless and you have found a new idol and I write about you when I'm drunk I guess that probably tells you something and I love you I just don't know what that means yet please do not forget about me
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
walk with the wind,
against the water's current.
trudge towards your gutter.
***** others in blind hope,
hope to high godless heaven,
that you're mad enough to pass as a purist.
...---...
find your gutter, close the shutters,
hide until the heavy wind deadens.
let your safe haven cave in,
bask in the mindless clutter.
become a fallen angel in your own armageddon.
-
...---...
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC
A Poem in 3 Parts by Sara L Russell, 4/6/15; 00:51am
I
There is a grey area between
this world and the next.
People can be foolish; they dabble in ouija, in
dowsing, in automatic writing;
and - wittingly or unwittingly,
they may open a portal
to the other side.
That is how they enter.
Beware of inviting them in.
Shadow people are there
where needle pierces skin; where the ******
sits, glassy-eyed, on the precipice of oblivion;
they lurk in unholy places where godless
politicians declare themselves to be
speaking for God;
they haunt the dreams of drunkards,
schizophrenics, junkies
and the paranoid.
But they are not spun out of dreams,
they are real.
Shadow people were there
when the ancient pharaohs of Egypt
were interred, with all their gold;
they took them to Hades
for also burying their wives
and servants, alive.
They were there
in **** concentration camps,
sitting on the left shoulders
of those who blindly carried out
orders of death and torture.
They subsist in underworlds of catacombs,
they lurk in the spaces between
our conscious and unconscious minds;
In blackened mirrors they seek out a vortex,
My friends, be the light that
keeps out the darkness,
Do not seek to question the dear and foregone,
No matter how much they are missed;
for there are others lurking in the shadows.
Be not the portal inviting them in.
II
Did I see you in Bohemian Grove,
smiling at the Cremation of the Care?
Were you there,
and did you have more than one shadow?
Did I see you in that Great Hall
with chequered floors,
where the Eye of Horus
watched over a pyramid of gold?
Did you lift a cup of
the good red wine,
did blood brothers drink each other's health,
gazing through a glass darkly?
Did we toast the Cremation of the Care,
and how many others were there?
III
Sometimes we visit Hell in our dreams,
though we may fervently pray before sleep.
There is no shame in sleeping with the light on.
Wear a cross, if you think that it will help.
Sometimes the citizens of Hell visit us,
in that stasis between sleep and wakefulnes;
they are only ever seen at the outer periphery of our vision.
It's never a good idea to look at them directly.
Sometimes they venture a little closer than the rules allow.
Sometimes the line between their domain and ours is blurred.
Occasionally, the breeze seems to whisper your name -
only, it's not the breeze.
Be vigilant.
Always try to see them first.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
I stare at the television news....
Assaulted by violence
Stunned by the inhumanity of a
Godless society
I listen to the radio....
Embarrassed by ads that tout
Promiscuous pleasures
Outraged by the thinly disguised
Decadent discourses of the shock jocks
I read the newspapers and magazines....
Cuckolded by corporate America a
Loser in the games politicians play
Violated
Shamed
Cheated and
Betrayed
I try to turn it all off….
but like a bitter pill the distasteful images linger
nor can I go along with eyes shut and ears muffled
living
or not
in a padded room of my own making
I cannot function without information….
tho my senses are
Wounded by the
Brutality of the media
I yearn for thoughts to ease my distress....
like a mother’s soft whispers to her crying baby
like the beauty that shines from faces that know love
I don’t want the perception of reality that the media rapes me with....
I want the truth revealed by God in His creation
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 9:06 AM UTC
i am sorry but my bones will always love you like hell, like it was war, like the world needs to end in the process, like the hand of god, taking you out of my ribs and now he needs to return it back where it rightfully belong. i will always love you, in godless sacrilege. i am sorry if i don’t know any other way.
Feb 5, 2022
Feb 5, 2022 at 11:56 PM UTC
The insane live forever,
lust lawlessly over all things conceived fascinating
to the validity and gluttony of the mind.
Brain feasters we live to strive,
exist to be,
all things so mundane to our gluttony,
we hunger for something on border lines,
the limits of human mumbling over morality.
Cease your everest squirming,
your infantile homage bearing,
you find so viscous an evil,
so vile a fiend in us the broken chains.
Godless we sing the marching banter of forlorn free will,
we have no conscience to bear,
no after thought found alive anywhere.
The psychopath lurches out about child like smiles,
lives a second agenda basis before any infant experiments sin upon innocence.
Born divine this mutant knows free will without restriction,
closer to a limitless ever enveloping power than any mortal.
Breed me a man slewing monster,
a shape shifting skeleton reaper,
those that fear this untouchable being,
this godless singularity,
fear the very will we wish to contort,
constrain,
control,
but a demon answers only to that of it’s own greed,
no man may quiet its roaring,
its heartless contortioning.
It’s an angel without a heart beat,
a cadaver with a taste for its own flesh,
make me a monster manufactured under every roof,
we’ve got too much human to feel.
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:29 AM UTC
Though I splish
Though I splash
*** I drink so fear my wrath
Behold my mate
Behold my captain
Cutlasses ring and we are laughing
Pity me not
Pity the foe
Sink him to the godless unknown
Plunder the hold
Plunder her chest
Strife we be so do not rest
Sink the English
Sink the Spanish
We rule here so we **** them
Free we are
Free we be
A lavish life is the one for me
If I am hanged
If I am dead
Fear not mate I swam to land
Cut your foes
Cut their friends
We rule this kingdom
In the Queen Anne's Revenge!
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 8:48 PM UTC
Infested, impaled, slaughtered meat, and brimstone candy
Slumped on a throne with a pirate's dagger under a skeleton key
Drowning children in a gaping gutter of godless servitude
Putrid streams dripping puddles under the disemboweled
Drink the fornicating disease, backmasking a kaleidoscope clown
Forget me not as my ship docks, I will surely help you drown
Aug 28, 2021
Aug 28, 2021 at 4:43 AM UTC
He would bring me orchids,
To the cemetery late at night
We would make love amongst the tombstones
In the pale, moonlight
Whispering sweet promises,
We both knew could never be
I prayed to the godless heavens,
That he'd be mine for eternity
Now he forever lies,
In that cemetery by the sea
Only the scent of death and orchids,
Brings his memory back to me
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 4:15 PM UTC
The image of God, seen in a "Godless heathen"
Before you was an ideal , but now is something I believe in.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
Do you realize that races are overrated,
since God is no respecter of persons?
Colored perceptions of hatred and bigotry
may ultimately destroy our existence.
Who needs people that:
• Lack brotherly love and respect for others
• Lust for power, wealth and **********
• Lack vision and purpose
• Lack maturity and wisdom
• Have attitudes of superiority
• Are poor in spirit
• Lack discipline and self-control
Colored attitudes, regarding skin tones and hues,
pale in contrast to uncontrolled emotions.
Without responsibility and accountability,
people get themselves in trouble rather quickly.
Who really wants or needs:
• Red’s lustful, passion for someone other than your spouse?
• or Green’s destructional envy of others’ wealth or possessions?
• or Yellow’s fear, smelling of ***** from peeing ourselves?
• or White’s collection of powdered deaths?
• or Blue’s inner sadness or coldness towards others?
• or Brown’s poverty, shame and overall uncleanness?
• or Orange steadfastness for a Godless life?
• or Purple’s smugness from a self-conceived ideal of royalty?
• or Black’s foreboding sicknesses and death?
Our human collective needs to find real commonality,
within this brotherhood of man, as planetary stewards.
Under girded with a genuineness of concern and love,
true understanding can lead to harmonious relationships.
We all have the ability to commune with God’s Spirit;
however, we each must have a desire to do so.
Utopia may be unattainable, unlike… unity of community.
And yes, I forgive you, for thinking I might be racist.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Acts 10: 34; Gal 2: 6; Deut 10: 17; 1 Pet 1: 17
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http: //www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 7:42 AM UTC
day after day ticks by as i sit on the shelf
head held high with pride
cheeks pink
lips rosy
hair gloriously golden.
i am the epitome of grace
i am beautiful
i am perfectly proportioned
i am everything you want to be
and more.
*i can be a goddess
and you will no longer be godless*
let me sit upon your mantelpiece
your table
your bookshelf
so you can tire of me in a year
(perhaps two)
and I will lie on the ******* heap with candlewax and rotting vegetable peels
staring blue-eyed into nothingness.
(you are nothing without me)
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
*We were squeezed from corruption
armed with the monstrous cutlery
of rippers and tearers of rationed meat
for a day, for a day, for a day:
the butcher gives his best cuts
to the young and godless divorcee
find us, keep us : a spectre hiding
in the dark pig iron rust hooks looping
through your *** and shopping lists:
smelting your coin
and punching your face
Company is the full knowledge
of our protracted, 3 -stage decay
burn drift degradation
eyes crusting shut
in doom and settling bomb silt
palms up, taking a punishment
in the mothertongue
ignoring lessons in the gracious
expectancy of departure
We, A legion of ancient clockwatchers,
in on the joke of time
and folk fetish of apple-cheek poverty
[Gasp!] The gruesome romance of class!
!you cry! !safe! !always safe!
in the nuclear hotdog option , which is
observably, the title of this advertisement
We will never get you[ ]you're awake!
and your atmosphere is still In Da Black
We watch you
watching
the 5 car pile up
catch up rolling down your chin*
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 10:20 AM UTC
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,—
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who
Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring,—
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,—
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,—
An army, which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,—
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay;
Religion Christless, Godless—a book sealed;
A Senate, Time’s worst statute unrepealed,—
Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.
2.5k
There was a woman with an ecclesiastic body.
I found out I was just one member of its congregation.
She was a soothsayer when the lights were down,
When she proved she was a succubus -
But what the **** I've never been a saint.
She put the screws to me.
She used to belong to another man.
Now she's putting me through my paces.
If I had paid attention to the signs,
I could have seen my fate before it happened.
There was this dude I knew who was hard pressed.
I thought I might could offer him a place to crash for awhile,
So he could get his **** together.
Apparently demons have an appetite for gutter ****
They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It was just a reminder,
Cause it really ain't no surprise.
That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell.
There are accusations to bring me down,
It's like I'm already dead.
They throw down their gauntlets,
They make every pledge.
I don't trust a word they say.
They're liers and deceivers.
All they want is whatever they can get.
They prey on fools and their believers.
They'll prophesy, then pass you by
Unless you've got an edge,
The dusty demons, dryer than a dessert segde.
They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It's just a reminder, but it really ain't no surprise.
That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell.
She never failed to cause me woe.
But, I'm not an innocent soul.
I guess what goes around,
Comes back around.
When it's harvest time, they'll know,
They done ****** with the wrong one.
Everybody reaps what they sow.
They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It's just a reminder, but it really ain't no surprise.
That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell
There is no such thing as kindness here.
I'll save troubles for another day,
They only multiply.
The more I see, the more I know
That strumpets belong with urchins.
They never will know,
Until they are each other's paroxysm,
But even then, they won't care.
No good deed is without a price to pay.
They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It's just a reminder, but it really ain't no surprise.
That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 3:02 AM UTC
colour green honest vanity
tree blades grass evergreen
withers generations comes
ancestral amnesia senescence
countless forms rising dying next
imitation of eternity
nature always fading
comes and goes
flowers greater than solomon
than regal blood honest to God
brilliant transient beautiful melt
undulating ocean of grim gripping
grappling godless colour
green and honest vanity
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC