|
Pay as you go, spirituality.
by Johnny CrimsonGive us this day
our stale old bread
with crooked crosses
placed round our heads
as stained glass angels
fly through the skies
and stab horned devils
with lightning bolt eyes
and pray to him
there on the middle tree
the one in the center
who's clean cut and bleeding.
Take from this house
of worship and worry
the unecessary guilt
and a few horror stories.
Just leave your money in the basket.
08/18/2011
Author's Note: I hate this poem. What garbage I can produce.
Posted on 08/19/2011
Copyright © 2024 Johnny Crimson
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 08/19/11 at 01:26 AM There are a few, but not many, churches that don't push the guilt too much. The one I'm thinking of doesn't believe in 'original sin'. I have a feeling that our parents are the ones who actually instill that in us and most churches take from there and run with it. I do like poem. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 08/19/11 at 03:01 AM A dark Sunday school sermon indeed. These thoughts are as sinister as organ music, and brilliantly expressed. |
| Posted by Nanette Bellman on 08/19/11 at 03:08 PM You've expressed my thoughts on organized religion exactly.
|
| Posted by E. A. Pugh on 08/19/11 at 04:18 PM Great write! |
| Posted by Mo Couts on 08/19/11 at 09:48 PM Wow! This is to the point and awesome about organized religion as far as I'm concerned, while not being too cheesy, corny, or even judgemental in the slightest negative way as far as I can see. nicely done! |
|
