Nothing rankles my muse more than the use of God for political gain. (Nothing, except maybe political wars based on oily lies stemming from the God-smacking political gains of a man named G. W. Bush.)
When I saw Olbermann’s broadcast of the “Just get me an f*$#!ing faith based thing!” my muse reared her gorgeous head and said, “Write about that broadcast!...Now!”
Dead in the noisy church, in the Universe of God, everyone's departed.
Down into the impartial ground Old Christian men, women, dry- Dried up bones left low in the world, Empty souled dust and deceit Writhing now evermore. Hush! Not a pious sound!
Dead in the noisy worship, in the universe of God, everyone's deceased.
Twisting expressions, scornful mouths, Shush thy hastening there along the pew, Under the baptism’s ocean, the green grin of tooth-filled trickery under plush dresses, pink skirts and flowery hats, The posh suits, ties and gold and bursting coffers and thy organ’s droning hell coiled to serpent’s tongue, Hush thy kowtowing mouths! Hush!
Dead in the noisy church, in the Universe of God, everyone's departed.
Lifeless in the cathedral, Rotting in the hymnals, The congregational affirmations, Reverend, monk, priest and preacher Calling out to thy listless sinnings And the lick of flaming damnation.
Hush now! Hush now! Hush now! Shush thy mouths and keenly listen, God has something to say now
and with all your blather and spin you might miss the truth within, so hush thy "f" based-faith mouth...
Dead in the noisy worship, in the Universe of God, everyone's deceased.
Nothing rankles my muse more than the use of God for political gain. (Nothing, except maybe political wars based on oily lies stemming from the God-smacking political gains of a man named G. W. Bush.)
When I saw Olbermann’s broadcast of the “Just get me an f*$#!ing faith based thing!” my muse reared her gorgeous head and said, “Write about that broadcast!...Now!”
Dead in the noisy church, in the
Universe of God, everyone's departed.
Down into the impartial ground
Old Christian men, women, dry-
Dried up bones left low in the world,
Empty souled dust and deceit
Writhing now evermore.
Hush! Not a pious sound!
Dead in the noisy worship, in the
universe of God, everyone's deceased.
Twisting expressions, scornful mouths,
Shush thy hastening there along the pew,
Under the baptism’s ocean, the green
grin of tooth-filled trickery under plush
dresses, pink skirts and flowery hats,
The posh suits, ties and gold and bursting coffers
and thy organ’s droning hell coiled to serpent’s tongue,
Hush thy kowtowing mouths! Hush!
Dead in the noisy church, in the
Universe of God, everyone's departed.
Lifeless in the cathedral,
Rotting in the hymnals,
The congregational affirmations,
Reverend, monk, priest and preacher
Calling out to thy listless sinnings
And the lick of flaming damnation.
Hush now! Hush now! Hush now!
Shush thy mouths and keenly listen,
God has something to say now
you might miss the truth within,
so hush thy "f" based-faith mouth...
Universe of God, everyone's deceased.
Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman
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