Best Heresy Poems
I
At this stage
My retirement age
I speak with JWs
Jehovah's Witnesses
I shut my door
quickly before
Now, I'm emptier - stronger -
I converse with JWs longer
II
Fine people, careful about blood
Who avoid transfusions, "blood" food -
For JWs, smoking is wrong
Alcohol - choice - may tag along ...
No hell, rapture, predestination
The big one: anti-Trinitarian
"Theocratic War Strategy," allows JWs to lie
To me and you, on works by Aaron Block, I rely!
III
But why do they choke & bother
That Christ, SENT, is only Savior & Brother
Who did die for humanity's sins
"YHWH only should be worshipped, even in hymns"
And Jesus dare not come again
Once is enough? No clouds, No rapture!
What do JWs gain? They "think" only how they're trained
NOTE: 1.Charles Taze Russell, in the 1870s, developed the Jehovah's Witnesses based on his Bible Classes given in Pittsburg, PA., USA. He was joined in 1876 by Barbour, but JWs used the King James Bible until Nathan Knorr et. al., (JWs) "translated" their New World Translation Bible.
2. Spoken Word churches, inspired by William Brennan, may also be a subject.
I like my God much better than the one
who made his home up in the stratosphere
and favored us with visits now and then,
harrumphing down below about the way
that we behave, and tantalizing us
with sticks and carrots grown especially
for those who said the secret word or not,
by having properly proclaimed one man a king:
all this, of course. was indirect.
The voice of supernature wasn't heard;
the being had a handicap as beings will,
and yet the silence was as heaven-sent.
For I, the fallen one, would live because
the son would die. That was the sense of it.
But making sense is for the sensible,
and arms and legs and progeny fall short
of that pure consciousness which stubbornly
insists on such intangibles as wind
and breath and spirit time to mark its age,
its truth, and its enlightenment.
It is in such an ocean that I swim;
It is in such transcendant holiness
that I perceive a new compulsion, bent
to scale the mountaintops,
to part the mist,
and finally to show the face of God.
~
Nonbeliever
by Michael R. Burch writing as Kim Cherub
She smiled a thin-lipped smile
(What do men know of love?)
then rolled her eyes toward heaven
(Or that Chauvinist above?).
pretty pickle
by Michael R. Burch
u’d blaspheme if u could
because ur God’s no good,
but of course u cant:
ur a lowly ant
(or so u were told by a Hierophant).
Regarding religious compliance,
I’m on a lifelong sabbatical,
Because I’m a person of science
And a need-to-be free radical.
Low praises, my dear
These hollow hymns, I have hummed
Vile verses shouted
Heretic’s testimonies
Sinful sermons to deaf ears
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.
the punishment in ages past
was to have your words written like on a scroll
on your back
carved in with or without you.
I must reject the holy-moly, mumbo-jumbo,
All that spirituality soup—Chicken Dumbo.
Atheists, Existentialists, and I, Agnostic,
Eschew the false enlightenment—socially caustic.
Of all the critters men have cursed,
The hateful hairy tick is worst.
His charm conceals a crudest quest
To snag you in his noxious nest.
Beware his lure! Don’t cross that line!
His bite will blight your nimble mind!
Once fooled, your failed defense will flee:
You’ll be as false and foul as he.
You’ll kiss your intellect goodbye.
You’ll sprout a vile, predacious eye
To watch for weaker wits than you
And crush them in your quagmire, too.
But if you fear the hairy tick,
Don’t fall for his most scary trick:
The more you crucify this crook,
The more like him you’ll start to look!
These ideals I avoid
Perplex me most annoyed
So wrapped up in myself
Faith kneels down on a shelf
Lost beyond conceit here
This azure mirage sphere
Claims my journeys aren't done
Since trials have just begun
I let you down again
Rage abhors the brakeman
My blood denies its roots
While my consciousness loots
Belief denies assent
This foul bile shall ferment
Dissolving from within
Pasts fixed with a clothespin
Just what spawns this wild hair?
I'm still trudging nowhere
Hoping won't stop my slide
Staggering from bromide
Pupils reveal my loss
Those dots can't reach across
That vast gap in between
What my third eye has seen
My rods and cones race off
When truth and faith face-off
Behind suns where you hide
Outbursts lurk deep inside
Far too brilliant to face
In our system's crankcase
Blazes fume from passions
Ebbing holy rations
Prayers burn as they stroke you
From caustic residue
I don't deserve your trust
Since toxins sear robust
Holes within your design
And visions most divine
Dash from my open eye
Begging for your reply
I
Since Martin Luther
It's rather simple
Only One Savior
Not Mother, Angel,
W. Branham or Joanna Southcott!
Sins antidote: Jesus's Blood
II
Born in 1750, Southcott
At 64 claimed pregnancy
With Messiah "Shiloh"
This "Panacea" christianity
Led to her death: delusion
Even claiming 144,000 only
Was the number to be saved
From Earth? Heresy is recycled, sadly!
But not plastic & polluting rubbish
Especially in my South Africa
NOTE: since Luther, a simple equation can help Christians, fur Jesus needs help from NO M/OTHER, angel, or false Messiahs (some 40 in Jewish Encyclopaedia):
Jesus + 0 = Salvation
Note 2: if your "Jesus" needs help from any other force, that Jesus is not God, so worship that superior force, & God is merciful (if/when we truly don't know better). Shalom shalom Blessings
Heresy
Lives vibrantly
When filament of faith
turns into shadows
Giordano Bruno looked up at night
Suggested stars were suns, not just points of light
Planets might circle those many suns
They might even have life, we might not be the only ones
The Church called his words a crime, not just a mistake
For this heresy, they burned him at the stake.
If your ideas undermine the narrative, you're a threat
And in medieval times, that was a bad bet.
[chorus]
If you're not a heretic on something, maybe you should be
To keep the dogma honest, new ideas are the key.
But telling the truth can make you pay a price
Check the terrain, should you refrain? it's hard to give advice.
In Stalin's Russia, random terror was always feared.
Even geneticists were put in gulags, or just disappeared.
Genetics meant your kids didn't inherit the new you.
And changes to socialist man were every generation's due
In 2014, USA, Brendan Eich went out of line
For opposing gay marriage, he had to resign
Not a church, but his employees made him depart
Though Dating apps like OKCupid also played a part.
[chorus]
If you're not a heretic on something, maybe you should be
To keep the dogma honest, contrariness is the key.
But telling the truth can make you pay a price
Check the terrain, should you refrain? it's hard to give advice.
In 2024, Efraim Haim revealed his hospital flaw
They were transitioning teens, against Texas law
Puberty blockers, hormones, on an 11-year-old
Now he's indicted, the feds won't release their hold
The old times, regressive, superstitious night
Now we're so progressive and we see the light
We're so tolerant, we don't settle the score
Scratch that, we're the same people as of yore.
And the waves of old keep beating at the shore.
history vs heresy
historically limericks are bawdy
some are even quite naughty
a titular lass
a word playing ass
touching the edges of tawdry
John G. Lawless
©12/24/2017