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Religious Hate Poems | Religious Poems About Hate

These Religious Hate poems are examples of Religious poems about Hate. These are the best examples of Religious Hate poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 

Copyright © John Paluszek

Details | Munaajaat | |

Tell Me

I'm lost hurt and angry
Why did you take his life
I want, No I need to know
Tell me, Tell me why
I deserve to know

Haven't you done enough to him
What'd he ever do to you
He suffered his whole life
Suffered more than anyone deserved
Tell me, Tell me why you did it
I have a right to know

Why'd you let him born to them
Born to worthless parents
Parents who didn't care
They threw him away like garbage
Pawned him off on someone else
Tell me, Tell me why
Explain how you could do that

You gave him Polio
You let others treat him like disease
You took away the full use of his legs
You warped his hand and foot
Tell me, Explain to me why
I deserve to know

You let others think he was crazy
You let it go on for over year
You didn't stop it, Why
Tell me, Give me your reason
Answer me God, Help me to understand

You go and make matters worse
You gave him Cancer
You didn't give him a chance to fight back
You just jerked him away from us
Tell me, Tell me how
How you could be so cruel

How can others not question you
When others do it, It's murder
But when it's by your hand
It's your will, Their fate
Tell me, What makes you so different
Your no better than the demons knocking at the door

You heard me beg and plead
You know I'm not afraid to die
I was willing to carry it all for him
I was willing to take my Daddy's place
You didn't even let me say Goodbye
Tell me, Tell me why I couldn't take his place
Answer me God, you owe me that much


Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel

Details | Rhyme | |

May the Love of Jesus Touch You

May the Love of Jesus Touch You!

May the love of Jesus bless and touch you!
May his presence be with
 and uplift you!

May the joys of the love make
 you complete!
And touch you, from your
 head to your feet!

May the glory of the lord
 be with and keep you!
His majestic power can really touch you!

May the words that he’s spoken,
touch your spirit!
His mercy and salvation… 
 He freely give it!

May the sweetness of Jesus,
 into your life bring!
His righteousness and beauty!  
Your everything!

May you take some time
 with Jesus in prayer?
How much he loves you! 
 How much he cares!

By Jim Pemberton    07.28.13

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | I do not know? | |

God Save Me

Love Love Love
That’s what they
Gave to me,
So Why Why Why
Do I live in Slavery

Hate Hate Hate
Always knocking 
At my door
Where life or death
Depends on the floor

Perception changed
In the blinking 
Of an eye
Now all I can do
Is sit here and cry

I cry for lost love
I cry with no hope
And yet somehow
I will always,
Always cope.

Because I am a Christian
I’m tortured everyday
Someone decided 
To take my life away

They saw a chance to profit
From all that I have done
I pay for my confinement
And am the lonely one.

I hope that one day
The real truth will be known
Who I am and what I am
In blood flesh and bone

Until that day cometh
Pray God stay with me
Then I’ll survive until the day
The real me though dost see


Copyright © marilyn stevens

Details | I do not know? | |

A Story My Mother Told Me

someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...

(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)

a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband 
who was in exile at the time...

in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...

the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...

one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...

the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay

the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...

the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...

a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...

the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...

by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...

but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...

the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...

the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...

and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...

the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...

she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...

the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...

‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...

the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...

the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...

Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...

then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...

the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...

a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...

the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...

Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...

This was in the mid-1970’s...

Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...

the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...

a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...

a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...

and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...

and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

The number the brand

When I met her , a very old lady she was , yet inside lay a frightened child .
I felt my heart cry , I felt as if I was touching history itself , as I made this older lady, child,  chai .

I remember the day , and so many tears I have cried
I have cried before she and I met 
As a child , so many tears, left confused inside .

Not understanding Why , and how could we stand by and live our lives as if this never happened ?

It happened , we are left in dismay of the movies seen the accounts taken of History 
My self ..I have caught stereotyping the very people whom did this to she , the rest of her Family erased .

The white candles we light , we try and forgive , or just simply block this pain out completely.

It occurs , over and over , as it has been said History will repeat .
When thinking of my children , when I think of that little girl losing ,  cold and scarred , feeling only defeat .

There is a lesson here and I pray , that all whom have been taken from life , have no pain and are gifted spirits throughout eternity . May they be warmed with love,  and reunited with the ones they lost .

The first time I met her , her old hand I took and warmed it with mine , I held it for a long time . 
You could not,  but notice ..the Evil imprinted on skin , the Evil only to remind.
This very old Soul , in her eyes you could see . 
The child that once lived , so innocently free, not aware yet,  of the Hostility .

I speak of a Little girl, I speak of a old woman , I speak of a Jewish,  chosen Religion.

There as I held her frail , old hand  , a brand , a number stamped in Evil a long time ago .   In 1945  , once in our distant, yet Frightening  past . 

We should never forget , never forget it happened , never forget all the names .
If we do , we have learned nothing , A World living in Shame .
                                " Etta Babooshka Kofman  "

Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | Rhyme | |

I'm a Muslim I'm not a Terrorist

I am a Muslim, I’m not a “terrorist”.
How can I be a terrorist
when I’m against all kinds of injustice.

I’m against every act of sin and evil.
I hate all kinds of crime and even loathe
what Adolf did to the innocent Jewish people.

I hate what God hates; He (Allah) hates oppression.
I’m against stealing, against taking away
people’s loved ones and belongings for no reason.

I’m against suicide bombings,
against racism, against ignorance,
against self-harm and even derision.

What God hates I hate and God (Allah) hates
oppression. I hate it too when people fight
for foolish nationalistic reasons.

I’m a Muslim; I follow the true religion
of mercy from Allah the Most Merciful
Who simply wants us to answer His Call
to believe in Just One -Just One God of all.

So don’t call me a “terrorist” when I clearly
don’t have a ‘mass destruction’ weapon
and my goal in life is to
be with our God (Allah) in Heaven.

Copyright © Mariam Mababaya

Details | Free verse | |

Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here

Abandon Hope All Ye
 Who Enter Here

Ever the edifice
The bold and self-serving statue
Proud ego stamped
In the courtyards and squares
Of those who have diminished ( ordinary )

Ever the hero who by guile
Steals the heroes burial
With self sacrificial offerings of ballot boxes ( rigged )

Ever the flag waving
For the faceless dictators
Who by money and army medals adorned
Assume control
Via  coup d'état ( or money )

Ever the religious fanatic
Behind Iattola, priest, missionary and Papist
Ever the quiet and raucous rapist 
Of faith

Ever the secret of power hunger ( sanctioned )
Allowed to dictate
Through political expediencies
Ever the murder of country men
To rule the country

Ever the nationalistic barrage of pride
For coloured cloth
Defines identity
And not humanity ( human )

Ever the innocent left to bleed
To fill the coffers of nameless greed
And ever the hate to feed
The racial, political and religious idiocy ( bigotry )

Ever the door which opens
For men and women returning home
With the triumphal marches
Of black body bags

Ever the tear gas, riot shield and rubber bullet
Ever the faces of Tienanmen Square
Ever the bodies of The World Trade Centre
Ever the terrorism of lies
Ever the truth denied
Ever love defiled

Ever the innocent left to bleed
To fill the coffers of nameless greed
And ever the hate to feed
The racial, political and religious bigotry ( idiocy )

Ever the door which open
Welcoming home
Mothers and Fathers
From their long days labours ( ordinary )

Copyright © colin mitchell williams

Details | I do not know? | |

Contagious Hate

How much hate can a terrorist create?
Truck loads for those who decided my mate Deans fate
The date 12th of the 10th 2002
Two ammonium nitrate bombs blew
It was an attack by a pack of rats
Murdering my mate on holiday with the Kingsley Cats
Celebrating a grand final victory by partying in Bali 
Why did it have to be?

Dam Abu Bakar Bashir, Amrozi and the rest of Jamal Islamia
These cowards intentions were clear and severe 
To inflict fear on westerners and to kill Aussies just having a beer
They want to plunder 
Unless they kill all of us there only gonna make us stronger the hatred can't go on any longer
Those had no cause or any remorse for using force to fight their so called "holy wars"
Which were said to be based on their religious souce
At the same time breaking their religious laws
No one should have a problem with any race colour or religion
Only a problem with any murdering individual that are in them
Weather it be Hindu, Muslim, Cathlic or Christen, black or white is no justification for a fight

Copyright © Adam Burns

Details | I do not know? | |

The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims

The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.

When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,

ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,

does Allah not recoil in horror,

to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.

Where is the indignation,

the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,

where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,

where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,

where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,

where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.

14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,

her crime?

Advocating the rights of girls to an education.

Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.

Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.

Shame on me,
for my inaction,

Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,

yet are conspicuously silent,

when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,

by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.

Not in my name!

Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,

Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,

Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,

left to bleed out,
while countless mothers' tears are shed,

not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,

not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
to see!

To see,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,

as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.

I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,

yet I fear,

that I shall write more of this,

unless we stand up and say 'no more',

I fear that I shall be writing this again,

until we all,

reclaim the true principles of humaneness,

until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of rage,
of fanatical insanity,

I fear I shall be writing this again,


until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,

I shall continue to say,


Or else I shall have nothing,

but my unending shame.

(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | I do not know? | |



The caustic tongues of the evangelists,
Across all creeds and faiths,
Seem as brittle as an old bone.

For they promise heaven and they spew forth threats of hell
While neglecting the words of that man who walked in Galilee

'let him who is without sin, cast the first stone'

the caustic tongues of the evangelists...

across all religions
new-age and the ones of old
baffle me even as I hear
a single simplistic sermon

for they really do, view us all
as blind imbeciles
scurrying around like faithless vermin

the caustic tongues of the evangelists...

wag on and dazzle us with visions of an eternal paradise
while here and now
their hypocrisy festers
within their earnest
well-meaning eyes...

'...dil mein hai khwaaish-e-hoor-o-jannat
aur zaahir mein shauk-e-ibaadat
bas hamen sheikh-ji aap jaise
allah-waalon se allah bachaaye...'

' your heart you desire the maidens of heaven
yet in the now you practice the rituals of piety
o' sheikh, may allah protect me
from the people of allah like yourself...'

is my tongue as caustic as the tongues I write about?
if so, then glad am I
for they shouldn't be the only ones
who preach and rant and continually shout

from their pulpits ever so high in the sky
from their hubris of comfort in possessing the 'truth'

from their 'knowing' that heaven or hell
awaits both the strong as well as the meek

while oblivious to the reeking foul smell
that encourages prejudice and hate
and visions not of peace
but of endless chants and prayers

which they, in their opium haze
rattle on and on
as they never seem to cease to speak

and though I’m sure that all this bile that I have spewed
will threaten
and offend

friend and
unfriend and
acquaintance alike


take pity on me instead
for it'll surely be I
who'll burn eternally
impaled by a benevolent god
on a slightly warmer than normal day in hell

on a crude wooden spike.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | I do not know? | |

MLK - 1929 - 1968

(January 15, 1929 – April 4, 1968)

they shot you down
all those years ago


your dream lives on
and always will

for though much has been
gained since you dreamed
your dream

there is much to fight for
and much more to struggle for

and much, much more
to fight for still

your dream resounds in
our hearts and we pledge 
this to you today
for though they shot you down
all those years ago on a memphis day
we shall overcome
this we do believe
deep in our hearts
we shall overcome

(for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Rhyme | |

What You Really Don't Like Me

What?  You Really Don’t Like Me?

Is there something about me,
 that you don’t like?
If you seen me today…
Would you want me to “take a hike?”

Perhaps it’s my personality,
 or a habit of mine.
You can’t stop talking about me,
much of the time.

Pointing out my faults to some
 of the people you know…
The words you say are actually
 eating at your soul!

Instead of loving me, the way
 God wants you to…
You bring up things about m,
 you’re not supposed to do!

Have you ever just once,
took the time to pray for me?
Am I someone you want to be with
for eternity?

STOP! And think about the damage
 you’ve already done!
Begin to pour out your heart
 to Jesus, God’s son!

May he help you to really LOVE me
 the way he does!
The cross he bore was for you and I…
Whom he loves!

May your thoughts about me,
make your heavenly father proud!
I hope to see you as we meet Jesus one day…
In the clouds!

By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | I do not know? | |

Killing in Allahs Name

Killing in Allah’s Name…


Pieces of burnt flesh,

in a school,
a market-place,
a temple,
a synagogue,
a mosque,
a church,

a man,
a woman,
a child,

charred hands, smouldering corpses, fractured bodies,
torn limbs,
dismembered human beings,

just human beings,

dead, murdered,

in Allah’s name…

…A 4 year old boy,
11 year old girl,
78 year old man,
40 year old mother of six,

killed, murdered,

in Allah’s name…

…Gandhi said ‘an eye for an eye will make the whole world blind’…


Complicit by my silence,

I stand in shame,

of the bigotry,
religious fanaticism,
wars of aggression,
invasions of distant countries,
flag-waving ‘my country right or wrong’,
blind nationalism,

perpetrated in my name…

…I refuse to be silent,
to be complicit,

while the slaughter continues,

each day,

in the name of god,
of country,
of creed,
of sexual-orientation,
of caste,

I refuse to be cowed,
to be complicit by my silence,

as the killing,
slaughtering continues…

…You who kill innocents,

you who shroud your slaughter in scripture,

you who drape your aggression in flags,

you who cloak your hate in anthems,

you who veil your intolerance in finely-tuned semantics,

you who bomb school-buses,

have lost.

…You may sow terror,

you may pound cities from afar,

you may wreak havoc,

yet you have lost,


you cannot kill us all!

We shall always be many, many more!


“…all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing…” – Edmund Burke

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Clerihew | |

Christian Believer Hypocrisy

Christian Believer Hypocrisy

Kentucky clerk Kim Davis
Use of her religious belief is a mistake most gravest.
While denying same-sex marriage, she is cherry picking the bible
When she grants divorced persons marriage licenses, making her argument not very viable.

Jesus had several times said something about divorce and remarriage. Corinthians 7:10-11 especially applies to Kim Davies who has three divorces and four marriages. Not only is she a hypocrite, she is using religion to promulgate hate. Oh yes, I think Jesus said something about "loving your neighbor" that seems lost on christian conservatives.

Copyright © Edward Johannes

Details | Rhyme | |

Sky-Falling Gold

Some complain of snow

Some complain of the cold

But what falls from the sky

Is much more golden than gold

Blessings from the sky

Yet we turn a blind eye

We instead express our disgust

When we could turn our sins into dust

We could pray to alleviate someone’s pain

But instead we scowl and frown on that rain

We could thank God instead of making a fuss

(It’s not like He’s throwing rocks down at us!)

A time to be grateful,

Yet we just complain

We could be making precious du’aa

For major beneficial gain

But it’s easier to grumble

Roll your eyes and shake your head

You may regret not taking advantage of this

When you’re long gone and dead

Don’t delay being

Grateful to your Lord

Let your heart live out

The ‘alhamdulileh’ word.

Copyright © Aya Salah

Details | Rhyme | |

Are We Trying to Remove God From Everything

 UNSUPPORTED CODE We often hear this topic across our nation.
Another person crying; “discrimination.”

In our many attempts to not discriminate.
It seems like it’s God that we seek to eliminate.

It seems like we’ve come up with our own “rules.”
And somehow have turned into a bunch of “fools.”

We accept many perversions of various kinds…
But God himself?  We seem to close our minds!

In many of our lives,  we’ve “kicked “ him out.
And refuse what he really is about!

The words, “In God we trust...”  Our money bears it!
Anything of God?  We’re afraid to share it!

It seems like the courts almost say he doesn’t exist!
And have brought much confusion into our midst!

As many say it’s “offensive” to display a cross…
Many godly values have already been lost!

It’s time to wake up America!  And begin to see!
The kind of country we’re beginning to be!

A country that’s foundation is getting off course.
Being driven by a wicked and ungodly force!

Out only hope is in God!  And him alone!
We must invite him back into our homes!

To God and his word we must hold secure and fast!
He is our only hope that our country will last!

By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | Rhyme | |

God Forgives Us Of Our Wrongs

God Forgives Us Of Our Wrongs!

God forgives us of our wrongs!
And he wants us all, to try and get along!

He gave us his word and instructions…
But, too often, we don’t seem to “function!”

Something done, or something said…
And it’s like some people, wish you were “dead.”

Even in Christ’ body, there’s dysfunction from the start.
Ending up in another wounded and bleeding heart!

What if Christ treated us, like how we treat each other?
What if he turned his back, like we do our brother?

No matter the good...  A list of wrongs is often kept.
What’s been done…  Someone can’t seem to forget???

Do you find yourself, a person
 who’s easily offended?
By someone you don’t like,
 or one you’ve befriended?

May I suggest a “heavy dose” of 1 Cor. Thirteen?
The love of God can take care of ANYTHING!

If it didn’t, then Christ’ death is meaningless and lost.
He bore all of our sins that day on the cross!

If we can’t forgive your brother over something he’s done…
We need to ask forgiveness of Christ…  God’s son!

There’s no excuses, in God’s 
kingdom that’s eternal!
Will your name be written
 in heaven’s journal???

By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | Free verse | |


Nothing but a waste
you’re just a reckless disgrace
too much power
for a deceiver

It's not right
I see light
It's not near enough
for me to go 

It's my choice
so don't you treat me like a play toy
I'm not yours
to control

Cause I will storm in after you
If you take her far away from me
And I will storm in after you
If you take her to the grave with thee

You take our race for granted
and you're highly overrated
you're always taking
my friends

It's not right
I see light
It's not near enough 
for me to go

It's our choice
so don't you treat us like we're play toys
we're not yours
to control

I will storm in after you
If you take them far away from me
And I will storm in after you
If you try and take them to the grave

Copyright © John Paluszek

Details | Blank verse | |

how safe is america

How safe is America?

Despite horrific shooting crimes that breaks out
in USA , it must be said, that America is not a violent 
country. In most small towns and bigger ones too, 
it is possible to walk down your street in peace. 
Therefore it must be made clear, before we hunker
down in the potato cellar, that the atrocity we have 
seen is an aberration and not a norm.
It is only a year ago when a crazed Norwegian went 
around killing 66 children at a summer camp. 
If you want a gun it is available to get wherever you live.
Yes, gun control is vital, not only for America, which 
notwithstanding the horror we feel, still a safe country.

Copyright © jan oskar hansen

Details | Free verse | |


Holy books says it all
You taught me how to crawl
This will never change
Never ends never fades
Dear God where you are?
Shattered piece of childish dreams
This will never change
Never ends never fades.

I can fight for all my life,
Not broken, not broken inside
Never be so frustrated,
Not going to commit suicide.

Fuc*ing faith will fall,
Mortals will stand tall
Hell and heaven are all the same
Live your life, don't die in vain

Only you and I can make 
A better world for tomorrow
Have faith in yourself
And wipe off the tears of sorrow

Make me scream, Make me cry
I'll never fail to try.
This night's has an end
No pain will remain

Copyright © Aarya Roy

Details | Rhyme | |

2 - Messenger from the Dead

There is no power in death,
great enough to stop youth.
From what must be done,
souls taken one by one.

If God should stand in the way,
clear the path you will go away.
Should I contend with this power,
no choice it is the devils hour.

When the wicked rule in time,
deception reigning of crime.
There will be a stand instead,
where I gather the vengeful dead.

Amongst in Hell that we cower,
our vengeance will grow louder.
Strong enough in legions,
numbers increasing regions.

Then the wicked will fear,
what is about to come near.
No where near closer to home,
inside Hell's nightmarish tomb.

Copyright © Eternal Victor

Details | ABC | |

Does Hell Exist

Does this place really exist
I believe it does for those who are always pissed,

The evil ones are all related some how
Maybe not by blood but in their sick minds they are proud,

Doing vengeful things towards those you hate
Will one day cause you to meet your own fate,

They don't see how this kind of action is mean
So they enjoy the power they feel when they make a scene,

The evil laugh you hear in their voice
It is deep inside of them but, they still have a choice,

It won't be too funny when it all turns on them
But, then they think oh I can blame this on him,

In hell I am sure the devil is glad
When someones evil soul is really bad,

So just remember the next time you want to get even
It all comes down to what you believe in,

The devil awaits for you in hell
Keep being evil and only time will tell.

Written By: Unique Poetry 2006

Copyright © Michelle Born

Details | Light Poetry | |

Turning Hate Into Love

How hard it is to follow the “Golden Rule”?
In most of our everyday cases
It is not that difficult
We try to treat people as we would like to be treated
We are mostly pleasant in our daily encounters
But Jesus asks so much more of us
Does Jesus really mean what He is saying here?
Imagine if we all took this seriously
How could this kind of behavior not produce a massive change in society?
We know we are a long way from this.
On the world stage
We rarely turn the other cheek on those who hate us
We regularly vilify them publicly
On the personal level
We often return hate with hate
Measure from measure
The great challenge of a faith based on love
Mercy toward others to turn that hate into love
We have no other options
This is Jesus Golden Rule

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza