Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.218.124.105
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Predestination is a fundamentalist Christian doctrine which says that god helps, or helped, you think when deciding whether or not to believe in him through his son Jesus. Basically, the statement made by believers is that god knew your choice before the world began, which makes you a predestined child of god. Only the Elect get to heaven, and you can never change who they are. I hate the implications of this doctrine because I believe it to be fair to to consider god as one god, or as one intelligent person supposedly with one personality, which implies for me that he’ll want to determine you after you believe in him by forming your words and choosing your actions etc. Predestination gives him rights over the believer, whether his/her faith is strong or weak, and allows him to extinguish the believer’s own actions for his own acts which implement themselves through the believer. Guidance by anything external is wrong, person or god, if your act is simply in obedience to them rather than through your own choice as a human being because at least some individual responsibility is necessary for basic sanity, for care and for the establishment of real reason.    

I tried and tried to move my arms, 
But was in a mental illness seizure, 
Severe and becoming so frequent, 
Only four, but I thought I had tenure. 

My mum had a char lady, a cleaner, 
So although the second doctor abstractly,  
Of my special school was in my mind, 
I called him Charlie to myself quietly. 

Whenever my mum would spout religion,
I would put into my mind the school doctor,
Who I didn't know at the time, too young,
But who I hoped in my life would factor.

I mean when I acted, moved my arms, 
I just thought of Charlie the atheist, 
The lover of normal social interaction, 
Who was in no way a fundamentalist. 
 
When I got to school I warmly surveyed, 
The daily affairs doctor, not the boss, 
But then informally along came my physio,  
A specimen so healthy, with such gloss. 

His name was Charlie, and I laughed, 
Said, “That’s fine,” and then conversed, 
Never told my parents about him, 
Until when he was the doctor, versed. 

I was under him at university, secretly again, 
Loved him and obeyed his instruction, 
And still to this day think he’s the best, 
‘Cos he’s been enough for this apparition. 

He was my carers supervisor, caring, 
My friend and mentor about certain things, 
And will never forget his interaction, 
For allowing this old girl to have wings.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required