"hogwash" poems
Fate, the absolute tyrant -
Brings me to my desk,
And I sit down to vent
This infernal night,
As prose or verse,
Or utter hogwash -
My wasted emotions -
Which some termed rhapsodic.
I promised myself not to cry -
As the day would dawn,
And I'd wheel down the aisle.
Making myself fall prey -
To another trade
Of cash and silver and solid gold,
A car and bungalow and so much more
- Of which in detail, I wasn't told.
Though I was called a beauty
Who could leave people dazed,
With two curvy dimples,
That lit my pretty face.
People never touched me
And would look at me with shame
Tell me I looked fragile
Once they knew I was lame.
I grew within four walls -
Comfy cushions and space
And it wasn't my legs, feeble
That restricted my pace.
It was love from parents
Siblings' scorn and care
That kept me from the wisely world
To go outdoors, I never dared.
I grew up crawling on my limbs
And seeing people walk
I never wished for them to stop -
Only prayed that they wouldn't talk!
For it was not their legs, I longed for
I reveled for what I was!
I only hoped they applied thought
Before pitying, how crippled I am!
I grew up watching the world go by
Each day and night would fly
Fantasizing with what I had been blessed -
My free and 'abled' mind!
I dream of a world - filled with trust
And friends who would 'walk' with me
Who would talk to me for who I was
And not offer sympathy!
I wished for love,
And found mine, divine
In a fairy tale -
Ironic indeed!
I sang love songs,
Wrote mushy poems
Painted wild dreams -
All to him, which would eventually lead.
You must have known this little boy -
Though a flaw, he did make history.
"Pinocchio", he was fondly called
And was known as a puppet with zeal!
It was not his quest for love that struck
Nor his zest to live
For it was his gait with wooden legs,
In which I could identify me!
But my dreams were thwarted
When to a man, I was entrusted -
(Or rather, on me thrusted)
One - with no love, but legs instead.
Along with blessings
For him to take along
Ample gifts were bestowed -
To keep us betrothed!
And now I await
To be proclaimed his wife
In the presence of a world
Which always kept me deprived.
It will be dawn
And I will soon be gone -
Yet I will yearn
For my Pinocchio to return!
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 10:21 AM UTC
“Lose one friend. Lose all friends. Lose yourself.”
Three simple sentences said by a favorite TV persona that ring truer and truer by the day
I used to think them hogwash, certainly not right
But now I see the truth in the words and because of that I feel fright
Lose one friend
This is because of some simple riff or fight
You didn’t think anything of it
You think that everything would be alright
Little did you know that this one thing would change it all
It would change how you viewed the world;
How you saw through your crystal ball
Lose all friends
Simply because all friends take sides
They may claim they want to be Switzerland
But they can’t just run and hide
This causes a division—
A civil war among you all
Those people you used to hold dearest
Now seem like strangers behind a wall
Lose yourself
Because they have become a part of you in their own way
It happens every time someone touches your life
Whether long term or just for a day
You molded them into your life
And made them your comfort zone
You never would have expected
That one day they would be gone
It’s sad that they took part of you with them
And this makes you feel so wrong
I guess it comes with the territory
Of making and losing friends
You always hope for the best
But you really don’t know until the end
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 1:45 AM UTC
“It's very difficult not to come across as a supremacist when there are so many black inferiorists around.”
― David Bullard
Look!..he's a leech, he's a parasite
That black man is draining the Taxpayers
He comes from a rich family, they say they are titled
Look at him, educated and refined, arrogant as black ****
Go get him, the ******* parasite cheating the working classes
Why not tell the ******* truth
That a white family of thieves broke into the flat of a black man
Something that they had done once already and caught but let off
Because they were neighbours and pitied, police were not involved
They did it again and were called thieving working class scums
Up comes hail and thunder and war
Their Militant leftist friends say it Anti-monarchy Revolution
Say's victim is a parasite and a leech, robbing the working classes
Go get him, his life destroy, cast him asunder, hound him to hell
Down with the rich, this is war, people's power, this is democracy
LIES, HOGWASH, DISINGENUOUS ******** RACIST CRAP
They can't bear to see a black man do well
They can't bear a respectable, decent, confident black man
To then stand up and call them out to their faces was the ultimate
They are supreme and all else must fall before them or put down
A black that is not a Black Inferiorist must be discredited at all cost
If the situation was reversed
And a black thief steals from an equivalent white with same status
( He comes from a rich family, they say they are titled )
Would the reactions be the same
(Say's victim is a parasite and a leech, robbing the working classes )
Honesty says NO, you know it and we all know it
(Supremacy has taught him that all people of color are threats irrespective of their behavior. Capitalism has taught him that, at all costs, his property can and must be protected. Patriarchy has taught him that his masculinity has to be proved by the willingness to conquer fear through aggression)
But the black man becomes a leech, a parasite a threat
For standing up to white criminals and daring to call them out
Devious political chicanery is unleashed and our Supremacists
All rally up, totting falsehood and misinformation to cover truths
Why don't see any Class war action in Kensington and Chelsea
What really bothers some of you is simple - and you corrupt others
Blacks must always be inferior and if they are not, you fight secretly and covertly!
Because only you have the God given right to live decently
Only you have the right to air your opinion or disagreement
Only you have the right to call it as you think you see it.
And you'll fight tooth and nail and with everything else to keep
it that way!
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 10:02 AM UTC
Here
Is a timely
Noun to consider
From the Merriam-Webster page.
"Trumpery."
Note (at bottom) the list of near-antonyms;
what is the opposite of trumpery?
[Popularity: Bottom 40% of words]
trumpery
noun trum·pery \ˈtrəm-p(ə-)rē\
Definition of trumpery
1
a : worthless nonsense b : trivial or useless articles : junk <a wagon loaded with household trumpery — Washington Irving>
2
archaic : ****** finery
Origin of trumpery
Middle English (Scots) trompery deceit, from Middle French, from tromper to deceive
First Known Use: 15th century
Examples of trumpery
<claims for weight-loss products that are based much more on Madison-Avenue trumpery than on bariatric science>
Related to trumpery
Synonyms
applesauce [slang], balderdash, baloney (also boloney), beans, bilge, blah (also blah-blah), blarney, blather, blatherskite, blither, bosh, bull [slang], bunk, bunkum (or ******** claptrap, codswallop [British], crapola [slang], crock, drivel, drool, fiddle, fiddle-faddle, fiddlesticks, flannel [British], flapdoodle, folderol (also falderal), folly, foolishness, fudge, garbage, guff, hogwash, hokeypokey, hokum, hoodoo, hooey, horsefeathers [slang], humbug, humbuggery, jazz, malarkey (also malarky), moonshine, muck, nerts [slang], nuts, piffle, poppycock, punk, rot, ******* senselessness, silliness, slush, stupidity, taradiddle (or tarradiddle), tommyrot, tosh, trash, nonsense, twaddle
Related Words
absurdity, asininity, fatuity, foolery, idiocy, imbecility, inaneness, inanity, insanity, kookiness, lunacy; absurdness, craziness, madness, senselessness, witlessness; hoity-toity, monkey business, monkeyshine(s), shenanigan(s), tomfoolery; gas, hot air, rigmarole (also rigamarole); double-talk, greek, hocus-pocus
Near Antonyms
levelheadedness, rationality, reasonability, reasonableness, sensibleness; common sense, horse sense, sense; discernment, judgment (or judgement), wisdom
By: Robinson Bolkum
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
Claus, Santa, the
Is a huge enigma to me
And probably many others
My enigmatized sisters and brothers.
Enigmatized, possibly stigmatized,
It beggars logical thought
All the confusion and pain
This concept has brought.
For over two centuries
Surrounded with mysteries
An alternately jovial and evil guy
Brought bounteous gifts, could fly!
Gave coal to the misbehaving,
Or nothing much at all, saving
All the good stuff for good kids
Who were careful with what they did.
We have read of Saint Nick
And Sinterklaas; take your pick
Of which legend blended with what
To become the guy we were taught
Sneaked down chimneys at night
It you kids didn’t sleep tight.
While this is all very typical
It seems rather biblical.
Claus’s eye is on the sparrow
So we must walk the straight and narrow
Or go down into his big naughty book
And he will ultimately decide to look
Askance at any chance of gifts for you
No matter how much begging you do
Write to his eternal rotund self.
He’s an unforgiving old elf.
And there’s that flying reindeer thing
And the way he’s rumored to go zipping
Around the entire blessed world in one night.
That, to me just never seemed quite right.
It’s bizarre and incredible is exactly what.
Do the reindeer have jet engines in their ****
And how can one tiny sleight and eight beasts
Tote those thousands of truckloads at least?
No, the whole thing sounds bogus, in its base.
And that whole North Pole/tiny people place
Where they slave on making toys all the year
And thrive on hot chocolate instead of beer?
Elves must be a rather dim gang of workers.
No union leaders? No malingerers? No lurkers?
I have tried for decades, but it doesn’t add up.
There’s too much questionable in this holiday cup.
I’m going back to the idea I thought as a child.
It’s easier to believe and not nearly as wild:
It’s Mom and Dad behind it all, it’s a big lie.
And my final bit of skepticism? I can tell you why.
The kids in my little neighborhood get given
Gifts with no relationship to how they are living.
If all this hogwash were actually true
Bunches of them would get coal too.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
The poet tries
with her words
to create something new
something hitherto unconsidered,
unthought, unspoken
She rakes the dirt for language
that is inimitable and rare
Fighting her way out of
prosaic platitudes
Searching deliriously for
a sharp-edged jolt of ingenuity
that will
awaken and inflame
In this great pursuit of something
clever
to say,
she overcompensates,
birthing a few stanzas
of exaggerated hogwash that inspires
more dismay than satisfaction
Out the window
her poem goes
A little crumpled ball of melodrama
and stale cliché
Then the poet sits in silence
smoldering with displeasure
wanting nothing more than
to finally write something that
works
It is when, radiant with disappointment,
she relinquishes her fantasy of excellence
that the true
poem begins
With rosy wings and
eyes like screaming bullets
it sails forth to proclaim
to declare
to profess without apology
or contrition
the wildest truths of her
soul
It is out of this realm of
deflation and defeat that
true originality is bred
Just a murmur at first, just a glint,
but listen, listen as
it swells into an exquisite roar
and watch,
watch as it rises from
the decay of the past
to flare
in a new light
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC
i used to sleep on my stomach when it was upset,
now i smoke these cigarettes to fill the void of a little boy destroyed,
you say we are friends though no response to text messages,
statuses of shut up, your words are all hogwash its true,
i don't love any woman by you,
though the search continues and i've tried other venues,
the only place i should be is your room.
i put my heart in an ice box because of you,
our love was once fresh as morning dew
and my heart has always been gold,
though it may seem freeze dried and stone,
i'm used to this feeling of alone,
your arms should've always been my home,
your words are all hogwash, and all of my heart left is blue.
i remember the day that i knew,
hey you began exercise, ***** you can't run from the truth.
Alabama slammers need slow vermouth,
through all of the drugs we've consumed,
and all of the stunts with your crew,
i can't feel for another there's no other woman but you.
Josh and i go hunting for cheek,
see a foxy lady and yell, 'juice'
can't help but think of brownies and knowing Kristen Stewart was doomed,
my heart it only beats for you, i know it sounds sad but its true.
to all of the hearts that i've harmed,
i never lied and said i was in love,
though thats what i wanted and i'm so, so sorry,
i can not forget her, brown eyes are all similar,
i should hide my poetry, words sometimes come to me,
without any sympathy yours cut right into me,
like that of a guillotine, intent for a head off of me,
i never thought harm to you, might of lost my temper for that i am sorry,
dried all of my tears on tees from salvation army,
hey you seem to blame just me, but did you watch the tapes on the TV screen?
im not sure but maybe that might be why i still love her,
no you're not ready to be a mother, we could have been family,
just leaning, waiting for you to come back to me,
god ****** lower cased, your crooked lower teeth,
i want my tongue inside of your cheeks,
but you'll never know until you read, all these things i've wrote since you left me,
this all sounds so self-centered, that was never me,
anything i did wrong was not make you happy
cause that's always what i want to see, maybe when i'm the man i am supposed to be,
cooking, tennis, teaching anarchy, your words are all hogwash,
my eyes are all that you need.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
That's
Nonsense!
That's
beans!
babble!
bunkum!
bogus!
baloney!
blither!
blather!
blah blah!
********
balderdash!
blarney!
********
That's
crapola!
claptrap!
codswallop!
That's
drivel!
That's
fiddlesticks!
flapdoodle!
frippery!
folderol!
That's
guff
garbage
gibberish!
gobbledygook!
That's
horse hockey!
hocus-pocus!
hokum!
hogwash!
humbug!
hooey!
humdrum!
That's
jibber-jabber!
jive!
jazz!
That's
malarkey!
mumbo-jumbo!
monkeyshines!
That's
Nuts!
That's
poppycock!
piffle!
prattle!
That, sir, is
******* and
RIGMAROLE!
That's
trash
tripe
and
twaddle
That, sir, is
NONSENSE!
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
They swoon on behalf of the exalted one
Brandishing the sword of the spirit
Deliberately making a racket
Tremolo picking
******* on the man’s marrow
Sitting on a pick nick blanket
Kicking up new ground
You sure have a knack
This is the taste of terror
Remember what you have learned
For now, for when? Forever
Leave no stone unturned
Just wait your turn
A blind recommended private eye
Take into deep consideration
Deliver me from the life of a lemming
Diving off a cliff into a cesspool
Daunted, left helpless in the courtyard
Belated birthday gifts given so thoughtlessly
Nonchalant sarcasm afterward
They shall not speak henceforth
These are the days of madness
The sanity you’ll lose
The colorblind in glasses
Receiving Rubix Cubes
Tell me what’s the use?
Running across the T-ball field
Frightening a legion of geese
A teenage thrill only to realize
My shoes were covered in stool
The banshee so aerodynamic
Its yawp makes my head split
Calling collect just to say
Your virility is too impressionable
We were the living theater
From which your inspiration derived
The kettles of fish and cans of worms we opened
That we cannot deny
We will not lie
We are dead
From the neck up
From the neck up
From the neck up
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
I think
Zen has been taught
all wrong
for a long time,
because the common understanding
is that Zen gives you
peace of mind,
an empty mind,
a mind which doesn't think,
and other such hogwash,
so I can explain
what Zen meditation
does to me,
and that is
that it brings up
much chi energy
to my head,
because of the way
that the eyes are fixed
and the posture
and the breathing
and the mantra,
and so
the mind becomes
stronger, more powerful,
more active,
not more peaceful
and passive,
and as such
it is conducive
to such phenomena
as internal music,
much thinking,
channeling,
telepathy and psychic powers,
seeing things,
hearing things,
and imagining things,
therefore
if you are getting into Zen
for peace of mind,
you've gone
to the wrong place.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:38 PM UTC
Do you smell that? The rich, smooth aroma in the air?
An omniscient amalgamation of flavorful anomalies
Ooh, I like it! What could it be? I haven't the slightest...
A persistent, wayward poet writes lonely words in the night
You mean like...? Oh dear me, shall I check the time?
Do you remember our last nightly adventure?
How could I forget? We must check the time! Quickly now!
Alas, our worst fears have thus been confirmed
A midnight poet, the most unpredictable form of writing...
Do you suppose the poor soul has had any coffee?
Well, I should hope so! What ever shall we do?
Naught. We let the pen run it's course, and in time...
But the destruction... think of the mayhem, woman!!!
Leave the poor thing, it's already a shame it's awake
No! Lay your weary head down, fellow poet, and rest...
Hollow, the best ideas remain trapped in mind during consciousness
Hogwash. I will not be hornswoggled with temptation
Though, I am correct to assume that you understand my reasoning?
Night-Write are the right-writes, yada yada yada...
So you agree then, do you not?
Well, of course! However, a midnight poet should never be left unattended!
Then we will write in the morning
Then so be it
Are you coming?
Go to sleep
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 5:23 AM UTC
She wore a silk yellow chiffon Cancan flare dress
With yellow ribbons in her hair
From the look of her brittle fingernails
And the way she held the hem of her mother’s skirt
I knew that she was a nervous one; with her watery eyes
Her mother kept up that old familiar fake smile
The nervous one keep repeating
“There a big fly under my dress;
I often wonder why the visitors
Never attends our churches
But would come calling on the neighbors in the afternoon
A stack of leaflets in one hand and a black sachet case in the other
I always thought of them as a demanding group of worshipers
My grandparents seem discontent
With their teaching; so to ease the charade
It came off like Bible bashing
My nana would offer them a glass of lemonade
While my grandfather debate the lectures
They call themselves Jehovah Witness
"Hogwash said Grandpa"
A Jehovah's Witness must walk the walk,
not just talk the talk.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 5:50 PM UTC
You never see a girl asking a guy to hop in her Porsche
Sounds like hogwash, of course
But let's just pretend to take the course
Would it be weird or the same?
I honestly wonder why only guys are allowed to do most of these things
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
Worried about all those gays getting married
Playing football , everywhere on the TV
Yeah , and all those dammed dessert rats
Chopping off heads for all of us to see
Shooting those Muslim creeps
Everyone of them had it coming
Now , that's just the way it's going to be
And all those porch monkeys
Cut off all that gimme
They need to get a job
And quit dressing like they were slobs
Kick all those wet backs back to Mexico
There stealing all our jobs
They just come over to breed like rabbits
So they can stuff the liberal ballots
And Damm the chinks , ***** , and redman
There no better than all the Jews
Ther're thieves that steal us blind
We need to get rid of every X , Y , and U
Now that would ease my mind
And all that hogwash crap in the Constitution
That doesn't apply to me
This is the home of the White man
All red , blue , and white you see
That's the home of all that's me ,
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 11:59 PM UTC
There is no Makers formula
This life depends on chance,
The way you play your given cards
Depicts your daily dance.
Oh dogma flows in utterance
From pulpits far and wide
From those who claim to understand
Eternity's vast hide.
From those who hold damnation
As a weapon from on high,
From those who claim a judgement
As their finger points to sky.
The good, the bad are absolute,
The right bedevils wrong,
Redeemed shall live eternally
The bad shall singe for long.
Old men stand in pulpits
Across this Sunday's land
To threaten with damnation
If you should cross God's hand.
"Belief" is now their catchword
Abomination's wrong
Is to seek to proffer proof of claim
....to Sing the Devil's Song.
So gather all ye faithfull
Go listen to your man,
Sing the Gospel loud and long
And pay your tithe, as planned.
...But should you find you're dying
From cancer's frozen claw
And the the Godly fail to sweep you
To eternity's gold door?
Remember my clear message
Your life depends on chance,
You live within your own good sphere
....There is no Maker's Dance.
Marshalg
After an overdose of Pulpit hogwash.
10 March 2013
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 7:29 PM UTC
there was an interesting
night to roam; to be indoors, and
she knows she'll never be upright,
a nuisance;
i am actually a big difference
between what i have been
a great deal with.
so don't try to get me.
we're just imperfect
and you, a crippled horse.
and if i had the time to get a free
chance
it would not be worthit.
hogwash, like the vista cruiser
forgotten in the kudzu.
and in the brambles do you question?
what does it mean to matter?
if you're no better than what you envision?
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
Dipping skivvies in hogwash
Pig play, pretentions and lard
Our love such panache slosh
Not choking on what's not hard
No worries, I've hardly been scarred
Constraints of Mosaic law
On me leave nothing confined
For the little curled tail I saw
Once whipped, delectable find
Oh how I enjoy my swine
This little piggy went to market
While this little piggy did squeal
None the piggies found bargain
And even more piggies did steal
For an honest piggy, no deal
Oh in squalor, am I left to wallow
Greased pig be slippery catch
This all may be hard to swallow
For one pig, does another fetch
Stop me now, as I snort and kvetch
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 8:23 PM UTC
Life puts a dent in the armor
It makes someone sour,
Spiteful and rude
The delicate line of life becomes crooked
Swindlers happen
***** drowns hundreds
They are faithless
They speak of pain
Revenge and all that hogwash
They try to call themselves rebels
I think they're just weak
Because they can't handle life
Like the rest of us
Last words to remember:
Be smart.
Be kind.
Be fierce.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 8:40 PM UTC
Her husband failed
to give her this, this
embrace, this kiss.
Her lover, this other
woman, this one whom
she could explore, wrap
herself in, tongue, lick,
smell, was suddenly
revealed to her, at a party
of her husband’s, some
big do, some work related,
job promotion hogwash.
She almost dissolves in
this female warmth, this
female smell, this soft
flesh thing she has known,
yet misunderstood for so
long. Her husband’s ******
predatorial ways are over,
he can go find some other,
go to some girl at the office,
some **** he secretly (so he
thought) had bought. She
feels born again, as if erupted
from the womb a second
time, mouthed a fresh cry,
suckled at new ******* and
likewise the other hers, too.
What would people say has
long since ceased to matter,
love’s intensity blows out
candles of such, puts far from
reach the narrow minded tongues,
the moralistic finger pointers.
They sleep together, eyes closed,
bodies wrapped about each the
other, dreams take on a new edge,
other shades and tones, nothing
of the old life, just this woman to
woman thing and loving moans.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 4:23 AM UTC
Hardwood floor pushes pressure points into the meat hanging off the bones of ribs and hips
Lifelessly staring over head, the false elagant propeller twirls
Attempting to make this over priced shoebox seem exqusite
Tassles on a silicone breast, spinning as the cockroaches crawl up my back
Gag on this sick joke, you gladly will
Is this the pipe dream, perfumed reality masking societies sweat
All that the populous aims for?
A self depreciating laugh
I
Raw eardrums are about to burst
Tearing into nothing, twisted words set off burning fireworks
Death rage fights, moronic blame, victims in our own heads only we're right
Neither could we ever be wrong, just wronged we make ourselves the prey
Fire in the vains over wet brained illusions, stories made up on the spot
Enshrining the chip on that shoulder
I Hate
City teeth a chalk smile, missing a canine seems all more harmlessly passive, the defanged vampire
The beast lays in wait licking it's chops thirsty for all it can take
Bare your thoat be the willing meal
Let it **** you dry, why not?
I Hate This
Fret and flutter running loose on a lost dime
Calm, cool, collected, yeah right
Lies, storming rage under too thin skin till it bursts at the seams
Lava pouring till everything's gone
"Life's what you make it"
Spoon fed hogwash to make us feel it's our fault where we end up
Dreams held in front of our faces
Treats on a stick, can't reach it but it keeps you going
Till legs break, lungs cave, and your will is snuffed gone to the gutter.
I hate this ****
I think bugs are creeping around in my pores, in the stitching of my clothing, each individual focal of hair, running rampage in the creases of my frontal lobe.
**** I Hate This ****
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 2:51 AM UTC
How many things
that people utter
are pure hogwash?
but they never
seem to realise
they speak in limbo
in the routine of life
their ignorance does feverishly grow
a pattern of banal thought
has been hard-wired with time
false confidence takes full rein
catastrophic is the outcome
habits are insidious and too soon
harden like immutable stone
those around have had enough
leaving the speakers to their silly own.
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
There is no Makers formula
This life depends on chance,
The way you play your given cards
Depicts your daily dance.
Oh dogma flows in utterance
From pulpits far and wide
From those who claim to understand
Eternity's vast hide.
From those who hold damnation
As a weapon from on high,
From those who claim a judgement
As their finger points to sky.
The good, the bad are absolute,
The right bedevils wrong,
Redeemed shall live eternally
The bad shall singe for long.
Old men stand in pulpits
Across this Sunday's land
To threaten with damnation
If you should cross God's hand.
"Belief" is now their catchword
Abomination's wrong
Is to seek to proffer proof of claim
....to Sing the Devil's Song.
So gather all ye faithfull
Go listen to your man,
Sing the Gospel loud and long
And pay your tithe, as planned.
...But should you find you're dying
From cancer's frozen claw
And the the Godly fail to sweep you
To eternity's gold door?
Remember my clear message
Your life depends on chance,
You live within your own good sphere
....There is no Maker's Dance.
Marshalg
After an overdose of Pulpit hogwash.
10 March 2013
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
close your eyes and dream
open your heart and let the
‘Sanders Spirit’ flow through you .........
It’s easy!
just take a moment to help your fellow man
pause for a second to consider
being considerate
show compassion
to your brethren
with empathy
and care /
people get lost in dollar signs
thinking a socialist wants all
your personal property
this is of course
pure hogwash
spoken from lips of those locked in greed
folks
who have forgotten their neighbors
first name /
forget Jesus…..
2000 year plus absentee specter
asking you to turn cheeks
so as to be hit again
think ‘Sanders Spirit’
and share
if nothing else
your love /
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 4:22 PM UTC
You spoil me so much at times,
I can't believe the things that I have managed
to find in my relationship with you.
Each day I find myself thinking about how much I love you,
and what you mean to me.
There are times when I get asked what I want
from this relationship from others.
I get to thinking about how some girls ask there boyfriends
for the stars and the moon,
Yet I think about when your around,
and I see the stars in your eyes
why would I want more when yours are enough?
Then others ask for mountains to be moved in their names,
what hogwash is that?
When it comes down to it,
at the end of a long tiring day.
All I really ask dear one is,
that you come home safely to my arms.
I still need to tell you that I love you
at the end of the day,
because then I get to hear you say it.
Sep 22, 2010
Sep 22, 2010 at 9:07 PM UTC
Ah, yes. Holocaust. Genocide. Yes. Pagans are familiar with that. Just not in the way that you think.
Ah, yes. Holocaust. Genocide. Yes. Abrahamics are familiar with that. Just not in the way that you think.
I've got an inquisition I've put together! We've got to exercise! Burn all these things! For surely they contain evil spirits! For why else would someone think differently from me?
No! Hogwash. Darwin? You must be mad, man! For surely you don't also contest that the Earth is the center of all of the heavens! If we're not special, why else do we exist as we exist?
Do you believe more in the imperfect or the perfect? Do you assign more value to the material or the immaterial? Is there correlation between those two? There is an obvious relation comparatively within each question. For they could be graphed on a spectrum, if one were able to conceive of that. But what is "perfect?" But what is "immaterial?" For I may find the perfections in the imperfect. For I may reach and could touch the immaterial.
No! Some council several hundred years ago settled this! No! I don't know & I don't need to know who attended. Don't need to understand that moment's political atmosphere. The motivations and intentions of those who participated. I just need to worship! I just need to worship! I just need to worship! I just need to worship! I just need to worship! I just need to worship! I just need to worship!
I just need...
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 11:34 AM UTC