"televangelists" poems
-Light up a cliche under a streetlight
while singing "the Star Spangled Banner"
and receiving oral from a trans-woman.
**** in the drive-thru of an Arby's.
-Fist fight a bear that people
find much uglier than myself.
Made a bucket list of ****
I think might be legitimately worth doing;
haven't run it by my girlfriend yet.
Speaking of which,
she deserves a round of applause
for dealing with my melodramatic ********
-Strike a police officer,
after robbing a bank with a water pistol.
I wanted to call her to let her know
I'd chased a bird till it crossed the street
and tweeted at me in anger or excitement.
Flipping the bird "the bird", I shouted,
**** YOU BIRD!"
and continued home.
-Throw a rock at a train.
-Toss a Molotov Cocktail at a moving car,
and cook a hot dog in the flames.
She deserves a million dollars
and a ******* Nobel peace prize.
-Call one of those panhandling
money worshiping televangelists
a **** bird, and offer them to ****
themselves [the ugliest people I can think of].
-Wear a habit over a burka.
I don't believe in souls, soul mates,
anything supernatural or special,
but I love that woman,
and that's why I believe in love.
-Not die alone.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
the waiting in hallways
lined up on the wall
with eyes following the chatterbox and her
flowing train of rabid listeners
who hang themselves ritualisticly on her
shallow water illustrations
swimming on this thin tide of unpublished lip candy
her bubblegum words are commentary
upon which her followers build temples
to the unfit mothers of televangelists
the chatterbox spills her loud thoughts
on the sun warmed concrete
as the summer lawnmower navigates
around santa and his late december reindeer
and the children's labyrinth of christams morning plans
while i sunbath nearby
she gathers her spilled thoughts
and races away proudly proclaiming that'
my poems are too short for the pulitzer
so she is ready for her laurels
and a fast road to academia
with a neatly packaged version of her inner perversions
spread like *** and lip candy
on the local coffee shop bookshelf's
for the pretty college girl with glasses to drink from
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 2:08 PM UTC
Spring creeks born from infinite knowledge
gaining speed
riding cloaked horses that show
Peter in the stained glass surface
young creek
carry
salvation price televangelists can't match
melt bullet proof screens between altar and flock
wash the old mans feet
Summer river border
bring
fresh water to stagnant minds
earthly limits can yield no nutrition
salt smooths David pebbles to fly straight
Journeys from the Abaddon threshold
(leave the salt behind)
riding
clouds like the cloaked horses to stained glass Peter
past our own existence watching self hematophagy
all things are one
Fall crosses river styx
until we are wise enough to take the coins from our eyes
see
his lonely gold coin fall from the mast
economists miss the beauty in a negative slope
Cold winter brooks
forget their age
babes no longer baptized in ***** whale heads
no longer giving squeeze to oil that fights the freezing point of time
no longer running from the mouth that carries you west
are we anchored to god or do billions of monkey ropes join to give him life
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 9:17 PM UTC
Cheers from inside the catacombs of just-alive vagabonds & miscreant self-delusions of sagacious sabotage & pyrrhic moonscapes, brandishing our eternal return
a tabula rasa for respect & character - bottoms up, too. Mona Lisa
Shroud of Turin, ******* on a trunk. Gamble 66
for trays, dealing steam carrots.
Gag reflex to polite televangelists giving viewers auspicious immunity.
Habits cede to Power, acquiesce to Power, love power.
Peculiarity can recognize & organize to displace.
Something suspicious may run amok , antithetical to the divide & conquer trite.
Defeating paragons, i , Plumed Serpent of release & capture beats, borrowing color from a skylark in forever-flight, conjure remedial winds
Guide inimical bows subsumed in a cosmo-prole dew against the fasces of a few.
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 10:20 PM UTC
I truly fail to understand
Why it’s gotten out of hand.
It seems so very odd
There are so many God
Is supposed to have ordained
Some aren’t even trained.
There is an absolute dearth
Of an actual true rebirth
In the revivifying blood of Jesus.
It’s almost like allergic sneezes.
Pastures full of pastors.
Priests and beasts.
Defectors and rectors.
Pickers and vicars.
Bleachers full of preachers.
Clerics and hysterics.
Papal delegates and celibates.
Televangelists and Adventists
And hostile Pentecostals.
We are becoming overrun
With an ecumenical kind of fun
In which before we can holler
Another puts on a backward collar
And starts tell us what to do.
When the rebirthing is through
They are on their park soapbox
And ******** about our Xbox;
Telling us what we should watch
And the coffee in our coffee klatch
Is unGodly because Jesus never drank it.
Makes me want to grab and spank it
Before it multiplies. Jerks, those guys.
Pastures full of pastors.
Priests and beasts.
Defectors and rectors.
Pickers and vicars.
Bleachers full of preachers.
Clerics and hysterics.
Papal delegates and celibates.
Televangelists and Adventists
And hostile Pentecostals.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 12:34 AM UTC
Childhood trauma turns to teenage stigmata,
The **** hit the fan and I'm banned from nirvana.
Paradise is out of sight, that's the basic gist
Despite the broadcast of the sadist televangelists.
The fables of premium cable, channel six hundred sixty six.
Gone are Heaven and Hell to quell the existential fix.
There is no moral right, my solitary gaurantee
Bliss is a smoke and mirror trick, there'll always be a fee.
Mar 23, 2010
Mar 23, 2010 at 2:41 PM UTC
JESUS IS A FRIENDLY GUY
Jesus is a friendly guy.
Such a very friendly guy.
Lived two thousand years
Didn’t care for queers
And he has a painful tale
That brings us all to tears.
Jesus is a loving guy
Doesn’t even have to try;
That’s why he was born
To have his body torn
So it’s not a total loss
We get colored eggs on Easter morn.
Jesus is a groovy dude.
Don’t let this song get misconstrued
He’s god and he is man
We do everything we can
To beat and **** the fools
With anti-Jesus attitude.
Jesus was Caucasian man.
He was so much better than
Any Jewish kind of guy
That’s the reason why
The televangelists and stuff
You buy from them began.
Jesus needs your money now.
So sell your tractor and your plow.
Your preacher’s gonna show you how
To fill the check out while you bow.
You go to heaven with no doubt.
Jesus needs your money now.
Brent Kincaid
11/27/2018
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 6:30 PM UTC
6
6
6
It is void now.
Man
Man
Man
(Unintentional hypocrisy)
Ashes to ashes, for dirt was meant to tarry.
Not with a purpose, but because it found something pointless to help **** the boredom. Still, better than some hobbies.
Scrupulosity, the prison in the sky
When I visited Pop there he showed me how to take a long hit of Hell smoke.
16 days catatonic.
It was enough for me.
But Pop, he got too
high
Hospitalized for a revelation of the second death after worshiping televangelists in solitary.
The Serpentine Christ loves those with money.
Forgive him Father, for he knows not that
he earned his severance in my mother's womb
(7 bank accounts)
Shine it up good and spend it all up at the right time.
Pop is broke now.
6
6
6
(all is vanity beneath the sun)
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 6:23 AM UTC