Best Dogmatic Poems
Can I kiss a Catholic
or a Muslim or a Jew,
A Buddhist or an Atheist,
a Sikh or a Hindu?
Can I share their faith with them
and not condemn my soul,
To eternal persecution
in the Devil’s deepest hole?
Can I offer love to those
who are not always straight.
Who’s love is shared with their own sex
or either kind of mate?
If so, am I a pervert
who can’t pass through heaven’s gate,
is it true that love can lead to hell
as surely as can hate?
Can I really lead a life
rejecting all I find
that meet the inner feelings
that have formed within my mind?
Is it true that I’ve no right to choose
the things I want to do,
but just accept I must conform
to things that can’t be true?
If this is so, I’ll tell you,
then this life is really hell,
the Devil’s won already
we are bound within his spell.
But I’m sure that God Almighty
is around for All Mankind,
whatever path we follow
or whatever love we find.
Ivor G Davies
Doctrine is boking'
Makes me go a chokin’.
Morality and self-fulfillment
attainable without belief in God
similarly yours truly
would figuratively crane
his credulity to ascertain Ichabod
mentioned in first Book of Samuel
as purported son of Phinehas,
I reject entire Biblical text,
and prefer to remain sacrilegious
eschewing faith no more,
(cuz doctrinaire versus
epistemological paradigm)
disagreeable, thus essentially
resigning yours truly
as token scapegoat gussied
up as heretical nimrod
metaphorically winkin blinkin
nonverbally giving nod
even if deaf mute blatherskite
reduced in one sentence as an odd
ditty, I spout gibberish
while travelling finite orbitz,
whereby one metrical foot
in front of thee other hide doth plod
me along tried and
true value schlemiel totally slipshod
thru and through,
though no po' tightwad!
Growing up amidst paternal
skeptical and cynical dad
in retrospect, I feel moral less glad
to avoid orthodox precepts
foisted when juiced a wee lad,
who peculiarly enough
resembled Alfred E. Neuman
if only yours truly
a figment of imagination,
rather than experiencing being sad
sack these days purposelessly
shuffling within ma rented pad
i.e. one bedroom apartment
listening to spouse more'n tad
annoying if oft times
knows exactly what childlike behavior
finds me getting stark raving mad.
Familiarity breeds contempt,
and the missus (unlike other gals)
unconditionally accepts her sir
vile counterpart (me) unkempt,
where neither of us
once upon a time dreamt
that each the other
would survive foreign attempt
to pledge troth (courtesy
justice of the peace
also known as
Magisterial District Judge:
Henry Schireson of Lower Merion
nsync with fame of Kobe Bryant
Thomas was a religious man; he went to church every day;
Matthew was an atheist, taking his journey another way.
Thomas prayed for the hungry;
Mathew took them food to eat;
Thomas lit candles for the crippled;
Mathew helped massage their feet;
Thomas put money in the offering;
Mathew helped the poor find work;
Thomas condemned the truly evil man;
Mathew tried to help reform the jerk.
Thomas memorized each bible verse;
Mathew gave books to the book mobiles;
Thomas read parables about multiplying fish;
Mathew helped fix the homeless meals;
Thomas conversed with his God each day;
Mathew talked to strangers on the street;
Thomas sang songs with the chorus group;
Mathew sang the praises of folks he’d meet.
Thomas was a religious man, living life as the church said he should;
Mathew was an atheist, driven to do for his fellow man all that he could.
Lesson to be learned: Being religious does not necessarily mean we are doing all the good we can; and, being non-religious is not necessarily synonymous with being evil.
A dogmatic grammarian,
a know-all, with a frog’s
face, croaks from a well.
He glowers at error-insects
with his bulging eyes.
Children gape with their
tongues stuck in rules.
Expressions hobble.
Emotions are mangled.
There’s a relief in yawning.
Ma, grandma, pa and
grandpa never learned
grammar, yet their dreams,
doldrums, squabbles,
calumnies, ecstasies, and
all other throbs of life,
sounded through their
language without inhibition.
First published in The Literary Hatchet
You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink
You can present a man with evidence, but you can't make him think.
You can push a rock up a too steep slope
You keep sliding back, and you're at the end of your rope
It's not that they're stupid, they might have a degree.
Is just that they get wrong what can and can't be.
One sticking point, where the water can't flow
and truth drowns desperate in the undertow.
We have our fixed points, and thoughts anchor there
Some points are solid, some are on shaky air
But the current of thoughts resonate in the bands
Hard to jump across valleys, run in the sands.
I had a dream of horses that I had to corral
I started optimistic but lost my morale.
I whistled and waved, tried reason, tried rope—
But they scattered like rebels, success beyond hope.
There's a crowbar of reality; it can pry open the door
But how much suffering must occur, how much failure before?
Being wrong is inevitable, it isn't a crime
But the hourglass is empty, its long past time.
We're surrounded by noise; we're surrounded by lies
And when truth appears, it's often in disguise
We all pick our sources, analogies, our filtering rules
If we pick the wrong ones, we do damage as fools.
A person is dogmatic when they are expressing opinions very strongly or positively as if they were facts. This "rebellion” is very dramatic, and theatrics are not my strong suit. There are White men holding signs that read “Black Lives Matter” during so-called “protests” to boot. If there is merchandise being produced where is the revenue being sent? Has all the money been spent? Where are the headquarters and who is the corporate executive officer? Who is the treasurer? It is my life that I treasure. To burn down a police station is an idiotic measure to ask for peace between your ghetto and the police. Should one be spared even if they attempt to murder a police officer? Kill or be killed is a law on the streets, but that to some is obsolete when the situation involves the police. What is the phone number? They were thrown a bone. I do not lose sleep. I slumber. Can you give me an exact statistical number of black lives that were lost due to the police policing the streets of American Society with lethal force? My sense of propriety will not allow me to be on the fence regarding this issue. Between 1980 and 2023 , approximately 30,000 Black men were shot and murdered by the police. I have heard such gibberish such as “defund” the police. Taking their money will not make them work harder to defend themselves against threatening suspects I suspect. The families of some of the deceased have been given settlements, so I heard through the media. They were cut a check. The police were told that the government should cut their checks. Dogmatic Individuals have many problems in understanding new ideas. They cannot accept reasonable ideas instead of their own incorrect ideas. If there is a corporate executive officer found I doubt that this person will have anything to say that is profound. There will be no statue erected in his image. There will be no one to say “I stand corrected”. There will be no direct and reasonable ideas exchanged between vandals, looters, protesters, and those who commit intentional arson, and the officers of the law. I saw a police station on fire in another state; this was being aired on the news. I never heard if anyone was apprehended. Maybe no one left any clues.