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Polly o Feb 2013
They brought her in the night,
Sixteen ,with child, alone
To a refuge for her fallen state,
this holy place, her home.
She toiled and worked
from morn till night
Washing the stains away
of the holy men's  ****** fluids
Child's blood their pitiful prey

At Twelve she went to work in the big house on the hill
When her work was over,
there was more work waiting still
The Squire that tortured wildlife
and things so helpless small
***** this child at midnight,
in the wilds of Fox-ward hall
four long years she answered him,
she answered to his call
She cooked his meals,
she cleaned his house
and his twisted needs were met
And all the time she prayed for strength,
for refuge,  or for death


They took her clothes
with disdainful looks
and then they cut her hair
She sighed and blessed herself
the holy nuns would care
And the holy god on high
that she prayed to night and day
had looked on her with pity
and saw her deep dismay
And the heartfelt thanks she prayed that night
went straight to heavens door
She was free from him at last ,
suffering no more

She rose at dawn a call to prayer, to him that does sustain
the human wretches no one wants, he carries all the pain

She worked long hours with little food
Though awkward and heavy with child
The Holy nuns grew harder still
And she grew more beguiled
Their insults flew from day to night
and cut to the very bone
Her knuckles raw from scrubbing sheets
For the nuns with hearts of stone

"Atone for the sins of your ******* unborn
Your clothes have been taken
your head has been shorn
Now polish the floor
and do it again
ATONE!
ATONE!
ATONE!
for your sin"

Rich men who live in houses fine
Dine with clergy on food and wine
Tell the peasants how to live
Take what girls are forced to give
Nuns that float on a higher plane
Look down on us all wrapped in shame
******* priests that break the bread
and **** the boys when mass is said

And the God of hate that lives on high
Will pass his judgement by and by
alone with fear she waits unsure
Worthless,filthy, unwanted, *****
The nuns with venom, spit their lie
and light the candles to god on high

"Oh! blessed ****** Mary, you that know all pain"
"Help me ****** Mary, from sin I will refrain"
"Deliver my baby safely and keep him in your care"
"OH Mary help me quickly, my baby's almost there"

The birth was long and painful, no doctor at her side
They said it was her penance ,
The little baby died!

'
Call to prayer by the sound of a bell
Her baby was taken
she's lost in this hell
The bread is broken and held aloft
her mind is in turmoil
her brain gone soft
The smell of the wood
the polished floor
The endless work and the lock on the door

Her dreams are dead, her fate unknown
and still they taunt,
she must atone
she must kneel down
she must confess
she was born poor
she was born less


The day's, the night's, became as one
sleep eluded, the moon, the sun
she tried to work but couldn't stand
Too weak from grief
she felt the hand
"Your ******* dead! now get to toil"
"We stamped him deep in to the soil"
But in her heart she heard the Lie
She knew her son would never die
He's safe and loved in memory deep
He's in her heart, he's just asleep

She sits alone, her twilight years
her lucid thoughts are deep
She feels his tiny hand in hers
SLEEP.........Oh! perfect SLEEP



The state stood tall and washed it's hands
of all that had been done.
They buried Ellen down beside her darling newborn son
They slept a sleep, a perfect sleep, their story left untold
While evildoers in their church crouched down to hide their gold
For evil walks in all disguise
who dwell in god and men
They shook their hands and clapped their back
and saved her soul from sin

Religion is delusion and Hell was Ellen's life and Satan is the Church that caused the pain and all the strife!


In memory and salutation to all the women held against their will in the Magdline Launderies
J. Walter Braman Feb 2010
On your crucifixtion day, take a gift from me

It didn’t cost a cent, I made it all for free

You’ll love it like you did Mary Magdaline

A small glimpse of the world after you go off and die for sin

I’m a man of words, I hope you’ll stick around

You don’t have a choice, those nails are in there pretty sound

As you’re dying of dehydration and hematadrosis

Know that now in court, people blame you for their psychosis

A father hears a voice tells him to **** his kid

You’re responsible for more infant deaths than SIDS

Another man fills a pipe with nails; a clinic up in flames

And the inspiration derives from your holy name

The Holy Crusades, now that’s a delight

Did you know they actually sent children to fight?

It’s true, and in your name no less

I’ll tell you right now, it was not a success

They next denied the holocaust

But never you think all is lost

They’re right on board with marrying gays

Oh wait, I messed up that last phrase

I don’t think you fathom the harm to come

The damage that’s done because you’re the son

Of the holy god, my former employer

Before I was keeper of killers and lawyers

Heres some advice, take it from me

You’re wasting your time, get off that tree

Get down, and have a long talk with your father

Tell him “**** ‘em all, and next time try harder.”
This poem is based on "The Last Temptation of Christ." Loosely.

— The End —