Long Atheism Poems
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Myriads thronged seclusions to proclaim passion,
Endless breath, of Life words acts and desires,
Weary mortals seeking hopes,
From troubled vanities of passing vanities,
Countless hearts, seekers of all kinds,
From all religions of man's invention.
From idolatry, traditionalism,
Cultures of hoods and voods
To Christianity, Islam, Maoism, Judaism,
Shintoism, Eckanker, Atheism, Moralism,
And nameless isms of unequal translations
All in throng seeking truth in isms here and more
One, and only one knows the truth
He lives in hearts of human seekers
He lives.
My Sometimes Song
I once knew a poet called Rhoda Monihan,
Who was thought always to visit the Sanhedrin,
By her parents who said,
That god was not dead,
But she did happily voice her opinion!
For Laura Loo's Famous Last Line contest:
But She Did Happily Voice Her Opinion!
But she did happily voice her opinion!
Even though she was a woman cross dresser,
Rejected by those who were family familiar,
And made to feel like a used can or onion.
An atheist as well amongst Christians,
Not slack and did not just float into atheism,
Not apathetic to philosophy and to skepticism,
Prepared to remark upon and criticise turbans.
No blond hair to indicate purity and righteousness,
No blondness to propose truth and good,
Just black hair, normal and with no mood,
To pacify the quick spirited, pious countess.
What gave her the right to speak?
Her body: her legs, arms and voice;
Her mouth or voice said she had a choice,
About which she was not often weak.
1st March 2016
airing zeal! If (dog forbid) the richly paid, namebrand
looming kneecapped kneeling illustrious giant egghead
con cussed career athletes fumble, crumble and bumble
spelling a loss for those spectators (who doled out
a wad of cash) quickly make collective disappointment
known by cursing, first in loin, odiously reprehensible,
unacceptable wimpy yikyaking atrocious carpetbombing
expletives. As a casual observer (albeit also participant
within the human league of billions within the culture
club sans crowded house), no shortage of opportunities
avail themselves to scrutinize the man knee ting man
contention upon this oblate spheroid (densely populated
globular planet), these myopic brown eyes of mine need
not pay per view to witness austerity, depravity, gravity,
et cetera manifold gamut of Primate (particularly Homo
Sapien) behavior. Raucous, querulous, perilous, obnoxious,
notorious...actions prompt me to intervene as referee.
I would fear for my life if one to many excessive acts
of kindness would require specialists to scrape my pan
caked body electric off the sidewalk. A similar outcome
would most likely transpire if this totally tubular troubadour
disgust religion. As a tried and true value adherent of atheism,
a vociferous, rapacious, nefarious, jackass, fractious Bible
thumping religious dogmatic character would expend every
last ounce of fire and brimstone to proselytize me. Thus
when infrequently conversing about one or the other
aforementioned verboten topics de jure, I consciously
exhibit genuine indifference keeping mum. Obvious
quietness sidesteps ugly wickedness.
Your anonymous, curious, erroneous garrulous, hip poe
potty mass stir wordsmith Matthew Scott Harris
Form:
Israel Beckoned...In A Dream
This secular skeptic beheld,
eyes hallucinated, harried, felled
and haunted by
holographic images gelled
that didst silently scream herald
ding exhaustively
roaming, schlepping, meld
ding and trudging across
elapsed, nor quelled
blinkered, bloodied dead souls
across fractured wartorn veld,
where bludgeoned ghastly
eons of pain did weld
throbbing inside my
scepter templed mount, aye
vicariously experienced
cumulative historical grief
past to present anti
semitism I decry
incomprehensible genocide, (though
not necessarily exclusive domain
of Moses troopers), nonetheless I
find mine existence
ably linkedin sigh
lent lee to the
bosom of Abraham,
no matter such
quasi confession doth fly
in the face, despite devout atheism,
a genealogical kinship inherently
peppers the genetic
mind of this
questioning (authority type) guy,
whose lack of
religion cannot dispel
no matter fuzzy, gauzy,
hazy, et cetera,
asper the existence
of heaven or hell,
and no idea what
will become of
Matthew Scott Harris, when bell
doth toll mine death knell
though methinks, i.e. this fell
low will merely decompose
forever oblivious to
global pell mell,
whose corporeal essence will spell
reincarnation relegating molecular
composition of this aging
ordinary physical being
whose existence particularly,
poignantly, and plaintively
punctuated with delicately
framed psychological housing
twilight years echoing
punitive hardship just barely shaking
free, whence adolescent
aborted suicidal effort
near cleft flickr ring,
anorexia almost got life
extinguished, gut wrenching
yank key undergo wing
life and death struggle rattling
the long gone souls
figurative rusted empty cages,
whose legacy aching Diaspora, ages
ago scattered tribes, especially sages
Exodus to Babylonian Captivity,
(c. 12th to 6th centuries BC),
proud unknown forebears rages
against contemporary
Hebrews existential wages
of experienced unfair recent gauges
(recording heinous twentieth century)
opprobrious persecution quashing
valuable vital and voluminous
absent contribution Jews
never written pages
forever hidebound historical legacy
unfairly demonized ever since pre
Biblical epoch anonymous stages.
I’m So Much Better for the Magna Carta
I feel so much better for the Magna Carta,
Can trace atheism and humanism’s roots,
Can define that moment of clarity,
When individualism and free-thinking were to rule and roost;
I know the time philosophy changed,
From people as state/monarchy property,
To making their liberty into the king’s concern,
When the law became a place of security.
I can comprehend the specifics of the document,
To state common folks rights and chattels,
Can accept it needed barons, church and king,
To agree to certain terms and conditions;
Can reason why god was upheld as lawful,
Being the people’s recreation and heart at the time,
Can feel the rush of glad tidings that swept throughout the land,
When all citizens received an existential, fair and equal stand.
Although politicians and companies stand on their own,
It's the law that pumps their blood, fuels their fire,
Makes us feel safe in our much loved homes,
Cases the achievement of the success story and graduate in gold;
It lavishes love on the inconsolable victim, cold with hurt,
Pours restraint on the unstable, intending criminal mind,
It encourages all to engage in life with reason and rationality.
And loves with quietness radicals, jostlers and free-thinkers bold.
Picture Professor Bahnsen are at a blackboard, and he draws the numer-
al two on the blackboard. Professor Bahnsen then asks “Is that the numb
-er two?” One students says “Yes.” Professor Bahnsen then erases the
numeral and asks the class “If that was the number two it's gone forever.
the point being that numbers are not physic-
al so how does an atheist account for coun
-ting? how does an unbeliever (if being tru
e to atheism) as a na turalist with matter and
motion being the wo rldview account for abst-
ractions like number -s they must beg the qu
estion which is enga -ging in circular reasonin
g you can’t truly be an atheist you must
borrow from the Chr istian worldview to make
sense out of reason ethics and knowledge No
-ne of these is physi- cal or either made of ma
tter or in constant motion. So how can atheists use numbers they must
rely on the Christian worldview. If you are going to be true to atheism
you shouldn’t care about the result of any instance. Being bio-bags of
chemicals, after all what one animal does to another is irrelevant
Fundamentalist Christians row over piecemeal things,
Over whether baptism is required for heavenly sings,
Over whether baptism is needed for heaven’s welcome,
Over whether baptism is demanded by god to overcome.
I don’t know how many times I was asked about baptism,
Whether I wanted baptised, they didn’t accept my atheism,
I’d stated it to my parents but had a question in my mind,
About whether they’d told my so called friends who’d mind.
But I said no, and explained Christian atheism fair, square,
Didn’t mix my words nor hesitate to extrapolate with air,
But each one said to me I didn’t know my own mind simply,
Which left me very distressed, very much in a quandary.
They were playing the mentally ill card, when I was not,
They wanted to patronise me to chide and see what I’d got,
But I didn’t like it so withdrew from their sphere, company,
Which made me feel better, gave me dignity and harmony.
A stillness with life and a peace about my so uncertain future,
A habit of reading, even if I’d already read them in conjecture,
Since my parents restricted me to only five philosophy books,
In case for researchers and academics, thinkers, I had looks.
A fundamentalist household is not a peaceful one, stable,
But is distressed, fragmented and broken, that’s irrefutable,
You suffer displacement because your atheist leaves you,
To ruminate upon his interjection which is to see you through.
I think it’s better today, atheists in god families have voice,
They can be respected for devious acts of normality, choice,
They can refer to teachers for love, for secularist edification,
And have access to the medical profession for an adulation.
She is anxious
Like the rushing wind
She bleeds worry
Because she fears within
She is insecure, an exposed doubt
Vulnerable to rejection, to the
Unlocked shame, regret
So dark it has no name
She is afraid to listen
To the sunlight and the stars
As they dust her feelings
With gentling whispers, kisses
Like reflections of kindness
Wonders dancing to the silence,
Singing grace over the night
Releasing her from the darkness
She is troubled by the waves
Pain, dread – dismay
Wherever her heart smiles
There seems to be self-doubt
Clouding the caress
That might give her stress reprieve,
Her worry – comfort and support,
Releasing her from the shadows
With reflections of sweetest joy
She isn’t my friend yet
She doesn’t trust the intentions
When I give her my best gift,
A mention of His spirit,
But, I hope – one day, she will listen
When I tell her that there is hope
It is written in His book
And on the hearts of those who know
He is the reason there is love
That destroys every worry – LOVE
That releases the heart from the darkness
Bringing light that erases all burdens!
Someday, I hope she listens…
To the calling of His gentleness,
To the courage that created us,
The still, small voice that is trembling…
Eager to convict and bring salvation to her,
Writing her name in His book of life…
With a pen that erases all pain and strife!
Pick-A-Title, Vol 34 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen: 3.) Navigating Through Life's Highway
January 22, 2023
Not Just Any Rainbow
By Franklin Price
1/24/2019
Was not just any rainbow
Where I drove my car today
You may or may not believe
What I am about to say
Was driving on I-40
It was raining down on me
I came around the mountain
There a rainbow I did see
Just about a mile ahead
Spectrum colors clear and plain
Spanned the sky from left to right
It had touched down in my lane
Sure that it would move away
As the ground beneath me flew
Still was there as I drew close
Drove right through from red to blue
Did not see a leprechaun
Nor a gleaming pot of gold
Recalled the Noah story
From the Bible that was told
Earth will never flood again
Where the waters cover all
My rainbows will remind you
When the rains begin to fall
I felt that God was with me
As I traveled that left end
Felt He was reminding me
He would always be my friend
His hand was on my shoulder
As I traveled through the prism
There can never be for me
Belief in atheism
If there is a god and he does exist
No matter what he has to say it wouldn't mean a thing
An apology is long overdue
But now it's far too late
You abandoned black people
And for that I feel for you nothing but hate
It begs the question of your intentions
With the world with your actions - or lack thereof
What was the point of us being your creation
When your only plan for us was punishment
When we have done nothing wrong
So please enlighten on why you chose the oppressors
It was a choice between peace and war
There is only one correct answer
Yet you chose the wrong one
But don't worry your cult is still the biggest one
With all your brainless members
In the eyes of the world you can do no wrong -
You are their 'all loving, all perfect god'
But let's not kid ourselves you're not
In reality you are a vindictive monster
And that would be valid if not for my atheism
I would rather spend eternity in hell with lucifer
Then in heaven with you - a fraudster
Because at least Satan doesn't pretend to be something he's not
He would probably treat my people much fairer
If no one else will hold you accountable
I will volunteer
I will never worship something so evil
Damnation would be better
Than respecting you, a self proclaimed saviour
When in fact you are more like a deadbeat father
Who coincidentally choosing your lighter ones
I know your game, you won't be let off
Because whether your real or not
My belief you will never have
You may be invisible, but your silence is not
It is loud not quiet
Ironic as this is something your not