Best Heathens Poems
Sometimes within the walls of today
We simply search for another way
To make this day all it should be
I must learn to live eternally
A blessing given or one took
I live my life inside a book
Each new day is another page
I sit in the circle and burn my sage
Asking Grandfather to help me see
Exactly what a true man should be
With the blood of an Indian and of a white
Life is most certainly a spiritual fight
Half of me hates how the other half-lives
The white man took all the Indian gives
Then the white man decided to take some more
Slaughtered the Indians from shore to shore
Brought an end to a beautiful way of life
“We will kill the man and rape the wife”
They called us heathens but don’t you know
Was the white man that had a heathen’s soul
Half and half, the blood of a breed
Poisoned by a white mans seed
It’s my Indian half I love the most
My white half is turning into a ghost
Through my veins flows the blood of a brave
Though I lived my life as my white halves slave
Jesus Christ, nailed to the cross for me
Now my Indian half enjoys living free
Though freedom is a frame of mind
In the circle of life it’s truth I find
With each new poem I’m able to see
A little bit deeper up inside of me
Which enables my soul to truly live
Making my heart strong enough to give
All the faith that is found in a seed
I reckon half and half, is good breed
----------------------------------------------
Posted in respects to James Fraser
I walked into Dad's study and looked around
A wooden bull with ivory tusks stood its ground
a German Bayonet lay before lines of books, and
On the wall was an olde map of the holy land
Behind a schooner with three proud masts,
Lay volumes of worlds, of futures and pasts—
Palestine before the Hebrews, a Rhodesia Guide
Three Deserts, by Jarvis, hard to lift, I tried.
The Golden Bough and The Struggle for Greece
The Revolt of the Masses, The Golden Fleece
The Lost Possessions of England, Leviathan
The Firmament of Time, and Darwin's Descent of Man
Stonehenge, The Heathens, The 30 years war
Each topic a window, each book a door
An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, then On Tyranny
The Wealth of Nations, Jewish Confederates, A Goodly Tree,
The Medieval Village, Capitalism and the Jews
Fred Bastiat, Thomas Sowell, Dad had free market views
Texts of Geography, that was his trade
Shelf by shelf, in a proud parade.
I can't put my finger on why, I feel a sad chord
For knowledge should be its own reward
On much of this knowledge the world turned the page—
His room remains—his shrine, his stage.
Coercive Persuasion, On Aggression — much more to the list,
And framed on the wall, the lives that persist:
There's how Mom used to be, full of interests, just like him
I step into those hard streets; the world starts to spin.
All you need is one word,
Erase just one word
from the minds of the people,
Rout out just one idea, one concept,
Eliminate 'Religion' from
the dictionary of mankind--
Man's stupendous and
gravest faux pas!
And, you'll see peace,
happiness, brotherhood;
There won't then be any infidels,
No gentiles, no heathens,
No pagans, no idol worshipers;
No racism, no hatred, no jihad,
No crusades, no inquisition,
No persecution, no repercussion.
No church, no mosque,
No temple, no synagogue,
No holy scriptures,
No words of God,
No places of pilgrimage,
No holy sites, no holy icons;
There won't be a pope or a priest,
Nor any saint or a swami,
No mullah, no imam,
No pundit or any rabbi.
No one to dupe you,
No one to lure you,
No Satan, no sin,
No guilty conscience,
No need for confession
No need for salvation;
And, what the hell,
There won't be any hell!
"I Can't Breathe" contest by Cyndi MacMillan
Stands on the land of heterodox
Who's the mightiest God of all?
People live and die on their equivocation thoughts
Those who exclaimed about the God who never fall
Inversely proportional to what they always do
Who's the mightiest God of all?
Seekers, believers, heathens and philosophers with their point of view
All still seeks for the truth and uphold one they call peace
Inversely proportional to what they always do
Compiling the ideas piece by piece
Who are we without all these idealism?
All still seeks for the truth and uphold one they call peace
At the end world leads to anarchism
They failed to adhere what they create
Who are we without all these idealism?
The idea of God and religion become skeptical trait
They failed to adhere what they create
Stands on the land of heterodox
People live and die on their equivocation thoughts
*This poem inspired by the contest that held by Richard Lamoureux, which I failed to join, but somehow I come up with this idea. Thank you for the inspiration :D.
It's not just young couples making a choice
I am for life please have your baby, okay
It's a farce about the tissue inside, mother has no voice
Having an abortion Dr. makes an incision
It's gets much darker, still to this day
Incest, rape, not her decision
Fundamentalists look away
after unwanted baby is born
Assuming the poor can afford
Self-kit abortion leaves her torn
Aretha Franklin, raped by her father's inside men
Save the baby? Mother dies? They'll decide
No choice of hers, pregnant at ten
Spent her youth trying to hide
More stories like these will unfold in the end
They don't hate Gays—they hate what Gays do
It's sodomy, old laws make a come back
Couples shouldn't do that, yes them too!
Healthcare, abortion Mills under attack
In your own home, behind closed doors
Blaming women for wanting pro-choice
The ignorant call you heathens and whores!
I walked the graveyard of my mind last night,
I saw many people sleeping tight,
I saw the ones that made me smile,
I saw the ones, who were part of my biggest trials,
I saw the failures of my past,
I saw the sorrow of a childhood gone to fast,
I saw the liars, who stole from me,
I saw the heathens, who would never be free,
I saw the chameleons trying to blend in with the bareness
And vulnerability of winter trees,
I saw all those who listened
Yet silenced my innocent pleas,
But then I saw amazing grace,
Shimmering under a mercy tree,
I realized that all of those stones
Had made me what I was called to be,
Each plot was responsible for a certain quality in me,
Allowing me to be able to identify
With others drastically,
I saw the days of evil tightly bolted down,
I saw clarity, which was once lost
Now completely found,
I saw the pages turn
As the past had been burned,
I saw God's presence filling up
Every area where I yearned,
I saw a radiant light pointing far ahead,
Directing me out of my mind
Resurrecting all that was dead,
I saw those doors to that cemetery close tight,
As I continued towards what was bright,
I felt an unusual grin,
Overwhelm me from within
I saw an extraordinary flower,
Come forth with might and power.
By: Sabina Nicole
6/20/11
Raised a thumb, hitched a ride
random raced, inside
a freaky, desert mirage—
—then took it——solo
and slammed smack dab
into Slab City.
Oasis to lost, wandering souls
outcasts, living off society’s Grid
—crash landed—
into immediate immersion
of oddball oddities and eccentricities.
Psychedelic dreamscapes
mixed with Truth tellers—
—Salvation Mountain, God’s love
and John 3:16.
then, around the corner
East Jesus, where heathens
and aliens commune.
Find your path, your truth
within Coke bottle walls
Madonna shrines, plastic people
junk art sculptures—-
—-RV snowbirds and hippies
living side by side.
Commentary complimentary—
—spun from a grey bearded elder
telling tales of the glory days—
—of protests and picket lines
—of hazy days, flower children
and far out, rainbow dreams.
choke my womb
with your
toddlerd
thoughts
catch my breath
as you watch
my words
rot
run
like
coward
yellowd belly fled
glimpses
of
word in head
freelance riddler'ing
middle-class pauper-erity
heathens featherd features
eons beyond fleas on the dog
love me again beyond all wrong
slaughter another hotter hatter
make me mad'der than a mat
lay me under flying on rug
give me vital fetal hugs
touching my breaths
colord me lessons
eloping my hues
while you
choke
my
womb
?
Most of us don't know that Jesus preached true salvation,
in His time, the Roman sword was very mighty;
it killed anyone without any justification...
is today different from then? How bad is society?
If it comes from above, it's love indeed;
sinners rebel against God in the way of the heathens;
they live in sin, denying that He's the giver of grace.
If it comes from above: it's love indeed;
who has faith finds serenity, prayers are songs of praise:
they can make one happy and outrage all demons.
Jesus was the Holy One: He shunned sin,
wasn't He tempted by treacherous Satan?
Didn't he resist temptation to prove him wrong?
The Prince of light can give us unimaginable wealth,
but He'll laugh at us, because our reward is death;
how do we resist Him when desire is strong?
If it comes from above: it's love indeed;
we can be saved by keeping Christ's creed.
Not everybody can carry His heavy cross,
should we ignore who mocks and throws stones?
If it comes from above: it's love indeed!
Written on 4/1/2016
ATLAS SCRUBBED
Let’s all sit down and discuss this rationally
Since it is of import internationally
And hysteria will get us nowhere
So let’s get a few facts clear
First of all, from the first of us to the very last, we are quite frankly,
F*cking up
Wait………… before you fly off the candle
Allow me to defend and amend my statement
What I really meant to say was we are all f*cking up this atmosphere expediently
And exponentially
This is an emergency of preeminent planetary proportions
We are inventing diabolical devices that scar the flesh on the pride of Atlas
And hold our grandchildren hostage to a hoard of hedonistic heathens
Who mar the face of even Mars
As if f*cking up the earth forever isn’t near enough
Perhaps I’m not making myself clear enough
We don’t hold our environment dear enough
And flocks of flagrant fools don’t hear enough
As the magma is moaning
And the crust is turning to dust
Because countless millions of mindless men decline to design what they must know
For absolute sure………..
that there is an absolute cure
But men don't listen and will come to rue what must eventually come to pass
Because their all f*cking this f*cking planet straight up the f*cking ass
© 2012…PHREEPOETREE..~free cee!~
They came with a Bible in their hands;
To pilage and steal sacred lands.
It wasn't enough to claim our ancestor's graves;
They also had to make us their slaves.
They teach that the pilgrims and Indians were friends:
But, in all honesty, that's when the Holocaust begins.
Burning our villages to the ground;
Killing any and all survivors that could be found.
Small pox blankets and rotted horse meat
Juan de Oñate cutting off our feet.
Our scalps taken for a bounty man's price;
Preferably from warriors but a child's would suffice.
Drive us out on a trail of death;
Auction off whatever we left.
Manifest Destiny and forced assimilation;
For us there was no Emancipation Proclamation.
Kidnapping children for missionary schools;
Beatings and starvation for breaking their rules.
Saying it was for our own benefit;
We should be grateful for what little we get.
They saw us as savages, heathens, and beasts;
Of all the races we were considered the least.
Still today they only see us as a spaghetti western;
So to them, I have but one question:
Upon their death when they return to the sky;
And they must look their Creator in the eyes.
What on Earth will they say and do;
When they realize that he is a red man too?
The Climate Changed
"You were the sun
Once I was perihelion
Now you are aphelion!"
Sang the perihelion of planet earth
In low baritones
What is the perihelion of planet earth to do now?
A pointless POINT
Wandering in a void
Year 2021
The planet earth is all but
Gone`
The last climate change summit
Was in year 2020!
At the top of the mahogany table
Sat Emperor Trumpet!
Trumpet meant a big fart,
In Cambridge dictionary
But its meaning had changed now
It meant the last Emperor.
Back to my story:
At the top of mahogany
Table sat Emperor Trumpet!
Climate change is a fiction
A rumour, a treason
Spread by my foes
The heathens:
The Jews, the Turks, the Hispanics, the other sex what I call whoes
The English the French the Democrats
Let us teach a lesson to all those
Heathens
Let us ignore their pleas
The Trumpetlings who sat all around him cheered
Twisting their crimson necks!
And serpantine, slime green tongues!
They lined up to kiss his ruby ring
Sat on his crow like finger:
The middle finger which became a conundrum
For ornithologists all around the globe
For years to come
All the while the great fart hissed
And twisted his serpantine tongue
Poison green in hue!
Spitting slime
all the time!
So the great fart was sleeping in his feather bed
(A loud snore);
The bed feathered by his slaves: the Turks the Hispanics the democrats the English
The other sex what he called whoes,
When a great molten came down and
Swollowed the planet earth;
In one big gulp
The humans, the animals the trees
The fine bridges, the intricate monuments;
All but gone now!
The sole survivor is a perihelion;
Lonely as a lost lamb,
Singing melancholy songs
To her old flame
Her greatest love once!
"You were the sun
Once I was perihelion
Now you are aphelion"
The only love song to
have survived!
O gracious God, the heathens are among us
They have defiled Your holy temple
America is on a downward spiral
We are scorned and ridiculed by other countries
Pour out thy wrath on the heathen
Those who deny You and fail to call on You
Recall not our former iniquities
Surround us with Your tender mercy
O God of our salvation, we glorify You
How is it the heathen asks, "where is their God?"
We thy people, and the sheep of thy pasture
Will give thee thanks now and forever
We will show forth thy praise to all generations
Turn us back to thee, O God
And cause thy face to shine upon us
That we may be saved
Return, we beseech thee, O God of hosts
Let thy hand be upon us
So we will not go back from thee
Cause thy face to shine and save us, O God
Curtis Moorman
20 January 2012
Loosely based on Psalms 79 and 80
The Beheading of Thomas
Let the clowns play on heathens dirt floors
With the rabble and unwashed masses
The Squires shall reside above
With men at arms and knights of superior glove
Allegiances to kings and royal courts
Let the bishops sort out the cohorts
Be deceived not by those with no letters
Saying they are poets for the better
They worship their own idol minds
While the wise ones seek out their own kind
Seekers who only find battle
Silent ones who preach with loud voices
Forewarning to the masses
You have better choices, forget their pretentious classes
Walk among the islands grazing sheep
Contemplation rewards the humble and meek
Trumps Rubies may shine today
Under rubble I assure you
They shall be one day
Assailed upon all sides; trapped, like a rat without his cheese.
Though I wore quite fancy shoes, there were no socks upon my feet,
When I fought the heathens and, met defeat, at the Pillar Of Muhamete.
Through a wall of living flesh I hacked; my trusty hatchet, my only tool.
On a bloody muddy Monday morning, before the Temple of Kabul.
Great green spiders big as tanks, did we ride to meet enemy ranks,
And the sky was the hue of lemons, as we made war on the Plains of Singahlee.
When the cannons melted, I said "chuck it", then with a broomstick and a bucket,
Did I storm the castle of the Great Caliph. With a cabin boy creeping , at my knee.
With a lantern strapped to my head, I broached the tower gate to set the captives free!
When it seemed our lines would crack, I urged the regiment to the attack;
Our war wagons pulled by eight foot frogs, imported from the gates of hell.
When bullets ran low, we threw rocks; til at last we waved our members.
To show ourselves unafraid, we stipped to aprons our mums had made,
Then went raging down the hillsides, with a shrieking girlish yell.
One Bullock Pete he died that day; Big Dick Willie; hewed in twain in the fray.
But the blue balls boys of Bingham held the line! The blood flowed like cheap wine.
Smoke and screams filled the air, like cheap perfume in a whore's lair.
Amidst the fire and the smoke, I did a softshoe and told a joke.
And an old vaudeville routine nearly saved the day on that battlefield afar.
We ran like possums through the trees, In our boots and BVDs.
We may have lost the bloody battle, but we won the flipping war!