Best Heathen Poems
A wandering heathen
compelled to wander and wonder,
clinging to the subjective notions
and half-baked personal philosophies
that evolve with each new day
and whisper with each pale night.
Away from the Kingdom Hall,
past temples more austere
and churchyards more severe
and cemeteries filled with believers.
Away from the witch
and away from the doctor
and past the feckless witchdoctor,
casually to the throng of the witless,
clinging to the odd concoction
of odd concoctions.
Wan hoodoo drags the bones,
no voodoo holds the dust.
4th April 2019
God's name is Pootidoodle
Don't use it in vain.
He had a limp noodle --
This caused him psychic pain.
He took a blue pill that made him ill
Then whipped it out and spun about
And got it bit off by the devil's poodle.
[A couple… ONLY TWO?… of you have wondered about my recent absence from Soup. I’m on a personal challenge to write 52 poems for kiddies… maybe, only maybe, to put a booklet together. My mind doesn’t naturally do ‘kiddy think’ so it’s stretching me a bit.
This little ode, I felt was too grown up for kiddies, but I rather like it so I thought I’d share it with you lot ;-) ]
Harry the haddock swam proud in the sea
He said there is no fish that looks down on me
I told him of one and he looked at me odd
And said I’m not sure that there’s really a Cod
A HEATHEN HEADED FOR HELL
I’ve never been a mentor nor a sage
I have, however, garnered knowledge by age
No one has ever deemed me a professor or scholar
But I’d defile God’s name if I donned a white collar
Lord knows I’ve blasphemed the Lord in numerous ways
By assorted means I’ve cursed Him for granting me too many days
I was prepared and willing to waste away and die
And for him to take what’s left of my soul stratospheric like high
God also knows I ain’t headed for Heaven or a place such as that
And only Hell is where I will wipe my feet on a welcome mat
I’ve been an unwitting witness to death through drugs and suicide
And when I get to where I’m going Satan will be my personal guide
Beelzebub will take me by my hand and show me places afire
Our first stop will be a lake aflame which will make me perspire
From there he will show me the screaming souls stuck in one place
Until I come to my bedroom in a most horrendous space
I’ve had queries but hardly an accurate answer
And God knows I can’t even conceive of a cure for cancer
My life has been a living Hell since the beginning
And the only thing I know is for eternity I will continue my sinning
© 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Discreet but familiar cradles bound and chained by fountains of sin with the
southern wind laden amongst conversations of warrented end,unraveling
sinister phenomenon conquering far beyond listen to the laughter of the
thousand year grace now out of place. Recieve your invincible step into the
crucible suffer as it becomes part of you the primitive is submission it justifies
intuition and compromises purity a disgrace to an extent. Violent distractions are
welcomed a nightmare to penetrate the corrupted air communion taken in time of
memory a hybrid kind stands as saints of conspiracy in an uncertain century.
One night of decimation can leave an imprint of dangerous perpetual events to
come, to lack confrontation and silence those who deem it exceptable to view
peace with melee and destruction. Blasphemy and betrayal to be celebrated lift
the vail to reveal a monstrous secret with in the labyrinth of time a tragedy sung in
overtures,seek salvation in omens and prophecies the diluted and flawed shall
return to roost only to discover the meek have sown seed and lay claim to your
land with deeds. Would this be the work of your filthy deity to worship none of
which will set you free testify unto thee with in the warmth of the soltice that the
fragile will survive the disciples are now messias the begining was always the
end the deception was always truth abandoned for control sorrow written on
broken scrolls.
WHEN THE HEATHEN COMES
When will the horizon;
Spin down and shine;
When will never come:
Whom am I to cry out;
When the heathen comes
When will the fire rain;
Sprinkle down my pain;
And who shall remain;
Why must I sustain;
When shall I cry out my name;
When the heathen comes;
Shall I stand or will I run;
Am I just a joke
Missing the plan of hope
And what of those new Christian beginners;
Those who were once sinners;
When will I embrace those...
When the heathen comes
11/27/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©