"mormonism" poems
If I were ******
I'd choose Scientology.
Or Mormonism.
Probably both.
Jews are too cool.
I love their culture of practical intelligence
that accommodates science and atheism
in a dark world of savagery and jealousy
their light shines like a radiant star
or the soft glow of a candle-lit minora.
Scientology and Mormonism are decadent, creepy and ridiculous.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
*"If you wake up this morning believing that saying
a few Latin words over your pancakes will turn them
into the body of Elvis Presley, you have lost your mind."*
He has often asserted that the thing is absurd:
that someone who does not (whether out of hatred, indifference,
lack of conviction, or frankly whatever)
accept traditional dogmas
is still, for some reason, capable of wishing that they could.
I think he is right; I’ve heard a staunch atheist say “If only
I could, but I cannot.” So, this is why he aligns himself
as an anti-theist: he simply
was never properly convinced.
This position seems (at least to me) well-supported,
for anyone can quite readily (and easily)
accept what their father or their clergyman has said
(especially as a child, not knowing any better).
Thus, to be an atheist
one must have first acknowledged supernatural power
and then later, after a bit of thought, dismissed it. In light
of this, I propose a toast to the Real Skeptic,
the one who was never really convinced;
of it. The one who, when celebrating the Eucharist,
wondered why God wanted to be eaten,
who , when receiving Christ,
thought of the extreme certainty by which other faiths'
devotees (Islam, Heaven's Gate,
Mormonism, Bon,
Cargo Cults, Shinto, Falun Gong)
live and preach – some even delighted to die.
Thoughts like these always made me feel uneasy as a child
because how could I hope to keep my little mind
from accidentally discovering fallacy after fallacy? So, here is a toast
to the Unconvinced, who can’t possibly help but not believe.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 3:47 PM UTC
In account of extreme conditions
The biographical sketching of
A Father spending all for the family
I fear the unknown & embrace
Essential to fail for the risk in
The end is the only true thing
That matters more than the world
Hold my hands dear child - Jump!
Inheritance of a soul
The body left behind
An entrance made of coal
On the horizon rests the stayed' line
A tending breath
Upon a supple breast
Where the young tests its best
Only to see history squirm
In its placid need for unrest
A night is only known
When the sun sets for its own atone
A breath for the naked
For the weary know no love
I press a kiss upon foggy
And see my mother's ancient face
She is young - no - she is old
She is everything that mother before
Her needed and wanted
Have I gone mad in these invisible words?
Do I press my own peoples lodged' souls
Within the caverns of my made body?
Are we in control anymore?
Have we ever been?
Are the questions of the age to Frank to
Be answered, for the youth is to young?
And the pressing of the wicked witch
Makes the toes of the frogs of centuries lore
In forgotten mythology of Crumbs masterpiece
Accept all that was forgotten from a mailbox of scrutiny
In turns we take the sisters we did not want
For mormonism is for the buyers of sires
The horn of the forgotten taxi driver
Whistles as they hear the virgins weep
The bottles bash against the dead of the street
And the neat clink their deadliest China
So all in all we are the same in the eyes God
And the only thing I need
Is a one way ticket to the bar
And the thing I see isn't too far
I gotta' keep on moving baby
I'll get there, it won't be very long
So take my heart, you see it there?
It's the one with the whiskers and
The eyes of pearly blue
And you know my mother? Her
Name ends with the sound of Sue
In the wind is the way of the forefather's
I make what you want if you got the price
We argue and we swear
In a world of injustice, we strive to be fair
Take a dollar from my pocket, see if I care
I'm alone now and without voice
Bear a child and see if you have choice
I'm no veteran, the bullets doth not know me
When the sun rises, assign my heart to flee
The night rests upon my weary shoulders
And the Parisian night falters in mine own view
It's majesty flickers upon my tongue like a lightning bug
Poetry is a dangerous dance where the God's lead with left feet.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 5:52 PM UTC
when i did not know who i was
i thought religion might tell me
i sat in a patronizing seat every other day
and did not ask the questions that itched
because questions are for those unfirm in their faith
when the teacher said,
'gay marriage is disgusting and
you should give money to Proposition 8,
cause they don't deserve rights'
i stood up,
cooly told everyone that
his words were that of a *******
walked out the door
smugly aware of the many
open jaws
and never looked back.
Feb 13, 2011
Feb 13, 2011 at 11:23 PM UTC
Chik Fil-A
Let's boldly proclaim, "We hate gay"
While buddhists search for enlightenment
Vishnu for Hindu
And the son of man for them Christians
Mormonism, what are they about?
Pastafarians, twist shout,
But god forbid, don't eat spaghetti...
Creationism for dinner.
COEXIST
Does no one understand that's what's happening?
I suppose the broader point I'm trying to make
With this fine pen
...or keys...
Is that while we all seem to believe one thing
Or another
Our beliefs make up who we are
But maybe, just maybe,
There's more than our surface-level
misunderstandings.
An absolute.
Also:
maybe we should stop treating each other like ****
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC
Born indebted
Pretty and inconspicuous,
bullheaded woman
"Be petite"
"Be sweet"
Mormonism imbedded
Background created, disfigured with no accountability
They proclaim, "we have humility"
Here she comes, the one who is done
A demon who has just begun
A fallen angel with its halo still hung
Not a threat, only desolate
Pink dress is a signature for a distinguished mess
A force of reconstruction
A taste of death
Nothing else left
The master of her hell
She will prevail
God confessed
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 12:53 AM UTC
Just the last twenty years alive god damit. Luckily japan let Russia read.
Some speed reading skinny girl conjoined with Mormonism.
I never even had the pleasure to puddle jump across a Yakima sess pool. Ah tater tots! Ah cheap i pod!
Let me belive getting by has a latter upwards. I'm dreaming! She works window 4. No hi. No how's Johnny.
It was only step rite up before you have the count down to blink. Mrs. I sat by Ago I can't pronounce your husbands weird name. Mr clean tell your son to mop floors with his head.
Someone needs to wet that cloax infestation. Mr creep? Have a women guard the bathroom next time you really piss. I heard children playing.
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 2:16 AM UTC