My ancestors believed witches had magic
My ancestors worshiped a golden calf
I'm embarrassed, such folly is tragic
I shake my head and have to laugh.
Today between females and males there are no lines
We say we can surgically change either side
We can power our cities on wind turbines
And Israel's guilty of genocide.
We can always squeeze more from the rich
We know there's always money to burn
No hurdle, no obstacle, no hitch
40 trillion debt, no need for concern.
So we're so much smarter than those shepherds in the rocks
They worked for their money, thought nothing was free
Fought off invaders, and tended their flocks
Could they have been closer to reality?
Say it while you're here. Say it while you're here!
How high they build hospitals!
Towering, chemically distilled alters
that the dead worship away from.
Piling, corpses on corpses on
tumors, on hearses.
Coffins for sale! Coffins for sale!
How lovely they make the mortuary
bells toll! Resonant frequencies that
the living stumble into. Onto, around.
How deeply the gravediggers dig!
Shovel, on glass, on cement, on
brick. Crack! What a hideous sound!
How high the fragments soar! Look
at them go.
How low they go, for such low blows
Insurance cards, rip! Hospital beds. Tip!
There go the patients down the trash chute!
Head first, feet first… drained of blood.
How intelligent the thoughts of mad men be.
Label them! Banish them! Don't let them speak!
It's so easy to dismiss someone when they're
called derogatory things. How hypocrisy weighs
down the silver of their tongues!
How loud! How loud? Too loud.
How long you wait How long you smile
How long you are here doesn't matter to
any of them, any one. But it matters to me.
It matters to me dearly, my love.
beach bodies burn up
summer winds scorch sundresses~
who has seen the rain
Idols
of oppression
upheld by belief
are the words
both of derangement
and of exhilaration~
these words empty
may seem a resonating
breakup of
Idols~~
HANDS
palms rough
nail beds stained
in dark of night
workin' mans hands
they become soft, tender
such contrast, his hands on me
on my soft curves, on silky skin
molding into shapes pleasing to him
meant only for him, I'm adored, worshiped
the late hour of abandon, passion, love
my body so like moldable clay
He, the maker of his desire
these longings, secrets he hides
in the light of day, dawn
when eyes again see
his touch is gone
I love him
for his
HANDS
These rules you are afraid to break,
They're not made for heaven's sake,
Rules based on idols of sin,
So where did they begin,
Composed by the originator of the LIE,
His goal for you is to die,
A death separated from your creator,
Your loss making his gain greater,
His rules have now shaped your expectations,
Turning you into the Father of Pride's creations.
Once upon a golden calf
is now a raging bull
Once a saviour walked on water
now He walks on oil
Surrounded by disciples bent
on scorching fertile soil
Oligarchies drunk on power
will never have their full
***
Funny we idolize, admire, imitate
Stars, politicians, elitists aggregate
Living in their hollow lavish luxury
As demonic robotic cultic zombies
Chasing the next pleasurematic high
Regardless soul depravation deprive
Sold out to their life utter perversion
Hiding from true light truth aversion
All the while remaining silent passe
Allowing the masses to be led astray
Feigning strength and superiority
Cowering to their lifestyle sorority
Afraid to say what's right n powerless
Living a secretive lie of cowardice
They are like two beam lights that claim the stage
on a hot summer eve in the middle of a makeshift
floor parkette made of wood, varnish, and lights that aim
They are more than two American dollies dressed
in French lace and boudoir lipsticks
They are idols of the theater talking through
cables and conductive material.
The imagination of the viewers soar as they lose themselves
in the dark curtained stage, where reality has gone dormant
The only sound they hear is the tingly sounds
of unfolding fans made of feather and paper,
by the old vintage theater Madammes who cluck and gossip
in hushed tones when the first dolly gives the other dolly,
a soft kiss.
The End.
Idols of the theatre,
Glamour of the pages,
Bloom of the meadow,
Glitz of the stage.
They're trailed by lights,
They're haloed and followed,
They're embraced by the day,
They're diamonds in the sky.
It’s not about their sizes,
It’s about the power they wield,
It’s not about the stage,
It’s about their dominance of its space.
Gloom seems to be far from their room,
They seem to have found the missing piece in the puzzle,
Fortune has smiled on them,
They're in the glory realm.
would I were in a lifeless world
in which I had no ancestors
in which there was no mark of man
which was blank with no sectors
I see history as enemy
as brutal face of man it shows
the bloodshed, heads with no bodies
heirless corpses under rainbows!
in which I was bound to nothing
a world without a single grave
a world in which wealth was unknown
in which there was no lord, no slave
where goddesses weren't worshipped
with nude idols by lustful eyes
in which I were the first subject
the first person to see sunrise
September 10, 2022
Grand basilicas
built to papal false idols
of graven image -
to apostate relics from
pagan Rome and Babylon!
the scapular of your anguish
wounds the insolent chest of your enlightenment with blood
a world in disenchantment cries its drunken hymns
but only jackals lick the nectar of these pains
because the night drives away the naive and innocent
and it is with the irreverence of the lost that we cry out loud
trying to defile every throne that rises against us
the time will come when we will immolate the new messiah in fire
placating the wrath of the raging oceans and their deities
the insurgent skies and their merciless stains
we'll bring back a forgotten golden age
and then we'll set all the new traps
to drain for the last time the voracity
of every idol that is eternalized
when we stagger weak across the earth
and we allow them to enslave us.
One who fashions idols sees no profit:
Poor, deaf and dumb, in blindness brought to shame.
Let them assemble; now the pieces fit?
When fools convene, the outcome is the same.
The craftsman forges iron with tools and strength;
Soon tired, parched and hungry, he falls faint.
The wood, he shapes with planes and cuts to length.
Gods these? The conjured images are quaint!
A fallen log, a wooden irony:
With half, he cooks, with half he warms his bod,
The rest he worships! "Nothing, lord but thee!"
He prays, cries out, "Deliver me, my god!"
Where is the wisdom? Can you not discern?
Deluded hearts that pray to gods they burn!
(from Isaiah 44)
Prophet Abraham took an axe
He smashed the idols
He broke them except the biggest one in size
He hung the axe around his neck
When the people came back
They were shocked to see broken idols
They said who could have done this
Abraham have you done this to our gods?
He replied ask that big one
They said you know idols can't speak
He said you mean they are just dumb and deaf statues
Why do you worship them if they aren't god?
They started yelling toheen blasphemy disrespect..
Q.What lesson do we get?
Ans.Chak day phattay.
Masjid dha day mandar dha day?
Dha day jo kuj dhenda?
Us banday da dil na dhavin
Bhulya jiday dil vich Rab rehnda...
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.