Destroyer, discrepancies.
How to sort them out?
Dismantle, then fire post-freeze.
River, run rue rout.
Destrier, to break mid-stride.
Sacrifice a pawn.
Midnight train, buy ticket, ride.
That will mow the lawn.
Priceless? Quite a prize? Surmise.
In passing? En prise.
Ring? Alchemy. Arcane? Rise.
Stifled cries? No lies.
Falconer, thy widening gyre.
Second coming? Now.
Come and see? Fine funeral pyre.
Live wire, take a bow!
Broil and char? From near to far.
Muskellunge and gar.
Peacocks pretty, poison par.
Dream, seem. Lead. Red star.
Serenity? Stable, sage.
Madness, mycophage.
Roundabout, rill. Rusty cage.
Symptoms mad, thy age.
Ark electric, how you burn.
Tones, burst sonic flame.
Mind cartoons? Ashes in urn.
Same game? Claim the name.
Armies, mechanize and wail.
Never end, our tale.
Weak resistance stale, you fail.
Blaspheme, boil and bail.
Silver, sickles. Red regrets.
Automaton, glean:
He who risks it all once bets.
Wind and wintergreen...
One more turn in this chaotic journey,
The same nightmares to paint this apocalyptic reality.
Traitors, hypocrites, liars, the jealous, the hateful and the slanderers darken my dreams.
Forced to blaspheme just to gain the attention of the Universal Force.
A few victims, a few indelible scars to be seen as legitimate in the eyes of hell.
I shook hands with darkness just to survive this horror movie.
Living in misery and poor health is an infernal loop the Reaper greatly enjoys.
No trust left in the human race.
I’ve walked alone ever since I could stand on my own two feet.
One last journey, one final tribute in this putrid microcosm.
Blaggard blaming the blond bloke for his blight:
Blablabla, bluster and bleat, blathering
Blob, your blue blood bleeds blotches on a black
Blossom. Blaspheme, blabber—I blast your bluff.
When Vincent stumbled home that night through a drizzle of rain ~
what was going on inside that teeming, torturous brain?
Did he blaspheme heaven with every profanity and curse?
Or did he gaze in awe at the stars of his exploding universe,
and try to make of their blue and yellow light a poultice for his pain?
This summer, it was Jilly’s dream
to eat a sweet, chilly ice cream
A seagull it took
Jilly said, “Oh, look!”
For Jilly’s too sweet to blaspheme!
Cathedral Mosque
or Synagogue
their masquerade
the same
Preaching what
they don’t believe
the Good Lord
to profane
Christians Jews
and Muslims share
their hate for
other faiths
Self-righteous ire
scriptures burn
as blood flows
through the gate
Colleges and
social networks
homes where they
blaspheme
Younger hearts
and narrow minds
starving
to believe
The clock ticks down
as options die
in zero sum
degrees
The vilest thing
to haunt the earth
breeds death
— with each decree
(Dreamsleep: April, 2024)
You might not like it
you may not agree
But religion’s the problem
the real enemy
A blind ideology
that kills to maintain
A false image of God
to blaspheme and profane
The Koran—the Crusades
the excuses—the lies
Fanatical visions
the death they imply
The future will judge
what the present impales
The shame and the heartbreak
humanity failed
As ill-fated dogma
kills the innocent child
The real God enrages
his judgment on file
So spew out your maxims
and dig in your heels
As millions will die
for what you think you feel
The universe watches
eternity waits
For this plague to be over
—this damned human race
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)
The church I went to as a teenager
was full of sex.
It seeped through the worn wooden pews
into the pours of our skin
It filtered through the sunlit air.
The aroma of young girls at prayer
was overpowering for an adolescent boy,
yet only now in my own old age
do I recall how the older members
of that congregation,
how with closed eyes and backs arched,
seemed to be holding onto
some sudden and unexpected arousal;
that orgasmic instant
was called ‘feeling the Spirit of the lord,’
a sort of magnetic and divine experience,
but now I know it as
that very same energy as sexual pleasure,
and consider this ‘knowing’ as not a blaspheme
but a gifted glory
one just as powerful as prayer
and capable of a much greater holiness.
And deep within the depth of me
Blaspheme
And there's nothing left to me
The last scene
Dear Lord what has become of you
Are you Looking down at me
Through the trees
can you see what I see
The rage in me
The evils taken over me
In your absentee
And even through the doubt
Without a doubt
shall you call upon my help
Thy Lord
you have my sword
Forevermore
But until that day
I see your face
Your holy Grace
I'll fight my way
through the fiery haze
For better brighter Days
I’m taking a stand.
I want the whole world to know,
I will shout from the rooftops and mountains.
That I am a Jesus Christ fan.
He is my Savior, King of all kings.
I’m taking a stand.
Against all the celebrities,
Beyoncé, Madonna, and everyone else.
You can blaspheme against my God.
You can mock my Jesus,
Turn the symbol of my faith upside down.
Soon you all will feel the wrath of God.
I’m taking a stand.
To spread the gospel of Jesus.
He died for my sins on the cross of Cavalry,
What did your Baal do for you?
I’m taking a stand.
To proclaim Jesus is the son of God.
I will exalt His name.
Soon He is coming, to
Through the dark prince and his minions,
In the deep pit of hell.
I am taking a stand.
I am not afraid,
To say, I believe in Jesus.
Your delicious mouth;
I'm so terribly hungry,
come blaspheme my lips.
Who are these that
boast of banal glories!
who drink at the fountain
of void deeds...
That blaspheme words
as swords of conquest...
anything...?
They are the same ones that sail
through the alleys of empty lives,
across seas full of
sunken ships...
Walk under the moon of the dead,
while regurgitating
their
poorest memories... !
Sun rays dazzle my eyes,
an ominous dark cloud
penetrates my mind and blinds me.
Groping like a mad person
I search for my elixir,
gulp down the scorching liquid,
curse, pray, blaspheme and plead,
hoping for some insight
into life's mysteries.
The darkness clears momentarily,
a silver lining glows on the horizon,
a handful of ideas come my way.
I grab my journal to scribble away.
My hand trembles,
my stomach aches,
darkness envelops me again.
The moment of inspiration evaporates
as quickly as a pool of water
in an oven on a hot summer day.
I reach out again
only to swallow the burning alcohol
in the hope of drowning my despair.
Setting the stage
A civil war exists right in front of our eyes
But only some can see this great demise
To abolish slavery: (was) the first Civil War
We had come so far; NOW, feathers on tar
Like never before, has evil been so at hand
Internal destruction, they blaspheme this land
They first destroyed God, and infect the schools
A whole generation (and) impotent fools
The media is silent OR narrates a violence
They are painting a picture, to impress, the tyrants
Being useful idiots (and) nothing more than tools
Expendable pawns;(for) a new coming dawn
A civil war, exists, like never before
Creating division, erosion, and whores
A top-down agenda for creating new slaves
These American Marxists; are NOW, setting the stage
©2021 JeffreySpencer
. for public domain
Sometimes we need a God to love,
to rattle the rafters up above,
to curse at, to blame,
to kneel before in utter shame,
a name to blaspheme, a name to scream,
a name to summon in a dream,
a name that withstands an insulting blast,
a name to call on when we breathe our last,
and whether this God is real or not,
a Scrooge aberration from a stomach knot,
we are made to call out, or curse our fate,
embrace in desperation what we desecrate.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.