Long Blasphemy Poems
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The pious dealings
Of Isis doth stealing
Pillaging and raping
In Allah’s names saking
They, who worshiping in utter silos of hate
Are enemies of all civilized states
Western senses, selling moderation
Those extremists won’t buy that sensation
Islamic terrorists are not of the book
Lets not blame the west, we are not the crook
They view kindness and compassion as imperial weakness
I say, lets conquer sharia law with even more forgiveness
Don’t be fooled with words served with sugar
When after tea your head is sliced and severed
There is no righteous or wrong towards God
He loves all, regardless of Islamic blasphemy or hog
Android, light a fire!
Melt down metal and stone.
Forge of these a wire.
O hateful, hold thy own!
Hordes of havoc, ride with fate!
Loose thy battle cry!
Warrior, thy will is hate!
Compel these to die!
Sigh, O waiting ladies?
Not readily, good sir.
Look up at the Pleiades!
Reality, just blur...
Automaton, black abyss!
Apocalypse; kiss.
Flock of pelican, fish. Grow, gris.
Serpent coiling, hiss.
Bile and blasphemy, break. Be.
All tomorrow, flee.
Beat of my heart, suddenly!
Vision means to see...
Cold confusion, coffee cake!
Help a brother out!
Vampire, do ye fear the stake?
Dragon, do ye doubt?
Flame eternal, burn within!
Blanch, O fire of Sin!
Scorching heat of oven? In!
What ye dream, begin!
Light of spark and intellect!
Brilliant is thy glow!
Raven of fate, how you pecked!
Necked and tossed below!
Chain unbroken, forge. Deep gorge.
Weathervane, point. Sight.
Unit twenty, thou art corge.
One it takes to fight...
Blasphemy
Blatantly ephemeral or plain outright naughty and lustful
Praying for beauty in the eye of beholding passionate Gods
Angles and half dome shaped wishes curve balls and all
~ Those who write by the sword are judged by the Lord ~
Thanatos and Libido a close shave of mounds of Vesuvius
The Vatican going up in one shattering search of its smoke
Church towers like phalli or bayonets decree choice in the matter
~ Trust thy neighbor in her cove’s coveted olives and mangos go forth
Veiled femme fatals embrace their shadows cover the flame
The Muezzin shouts from his minaret calls for service and love
Lingerie adorned by copula’s cusp bosomed for nibbles
~ Wet shirt competition in the heat of the spiritual moment ~
An elegant elephant with trumpeting trunks moaning and groaning
Free flowing love on the banks of the Ganges under cloth of the loin
Where Hindu meets Buddha on sheets and streets of Kolkata
~ Begging for mercy as wars of religions and nations battle in vain ~
Crosses to bear half moons to envisage and Karma to please
One woman’s humid humour is another man’s satirical crime
Whose God is to command me what is right and what thong
~ But once the bloody atheist kneels on the altar faith is restored ~
03rd May
Some days, I’m still fighting the urge to light a cigarette—missing those rippling ribbons of smoke and the way they would uncoil in the dark, humid air. I’ve been coughing so much lately, and my lungs will hardly expand for any air that isn’t polluted at the source. I’ve been hacking up my lungs, and each time it feels like trying to drag them out through my throat just to see how charred they’ve become. I ignore any signs of disease—any signs of my own actions catching up to me—all because I’m so afflicted and so addicted to slowly ending my own life. Undoing the veiny strings of my body for no reason other than my love for being unhappy, only allowing myself to breathe the poison I think I deserve. After long nights, when my daydream canopies crumble, I always wish to commit blasphemy for you again—treat your white ash like the god I sometimes think stopped loving me long ago. I wish I could still believe the burning in my chest when I run is the only thing that will save me from a future that’s not home—because it saves me from a world where I feel like all I am is my flesh and bones.
They Laughed and Called Him King
I had a dream some time ago.
I thought my heart would break.
I saw Jesus crucified.
But not for heavens sake.
I stood outside looking in.
He was charged with blasphemy.
Sentenced to be beaten.
Then crucified publicly.
I watched as they disrobed Him.
None of this made sense.
He said not a single word.
In His own self defense.
They spat on Him and mocked Him.
They laughed and called Him King.
As I stood by in horror.
He hadn't done a thing.
As they began to beat him.
I saw His skin begin to tear.
Everything within me cried.
I should be standing there.
With each crack of their whip.
My heart broke right in two.
Then Jesus cried forgive them.
They know not what they do.
They made Him carry the timber.
To where He would meet disgrace.
While blood from a crown of thorns.
Ran freely down his face.
I saw Him being lifted up.
I watched His mother crying.
I saw the spear pierce His side.
I saw my saviour dying.
He called out it is finished.
And I began to see.
He did not die for heavens sake.
Jesus died for me.
Edwin C Hofert
Come share with Me your burdens,
let me take your heavy load.
I know the pain you're feeling,
I've been down that road.
You feel you've been forsaken,
by friends and family.
I once felt the same way,
when I hung on Calvary's tree.
Has someone betrayed you?
Have you falsely been accused?
Are you lonely and discouraged?
Have your actions been misconstrued?
I healed the sick and broken.
My teachings were not amiss.
Yet I was accused of blasphemy,
betrayed by Judas' kiss.
I taught about God's love and grace,
I raised the dead to life.
And still the people hated Me -
it pierced me like a knife.
So come tell me your troubles.
I'm always here for you.
You'll find no condemnation.
My love for you is true.
5/16/15
For Brian Strand's All Yours (April 14) contest
Grey clouds in the sky with snowflakes adrift,
A world in disguise, caught in a rift,
Crumbling virtues with nothing to sift,
A broke down world , in need of a lift.
When you think of life what do u see?
A bunch of hungry people, few are free,
A bunch of crazy people spitting blasphemy,
Nothing ever is how it ought to be.
Lies and deceit make this world incomplete,
Try to paint a picture, get knocked off my feet,
Get up even stronger , my foes I will defeat,
Try to bring me down but I will not deplete.
Greed is the reason for this worlds hate,
Money is the key to the frozen gate,
Stand up together before it's to late,
Or corruption and poverty remain our fate.
The law teachers, and the elders, arrested Jesus.
They went to see the high priest whose name was Caiaphas.
Peter followed into the courtyard at a distance.
The chief priests and Sanhedrin tried to get evidence.
They looked for it in order to give a death sentence.
Two men would appear to render mendacious comments.
They said, “The temple of God this man wants to raze.
He claims he can rebuild it all in only three days!”
Caiaphas spoke, “Do you hear the men’s testimony?
Why don’t you answer? You maintain taciturnity!
Please tell us, are you the Son of God? What is your plea?”
Jesus replied to the high priest, “Yes, it’s as you say.
However, to all of you, there shall soon come a day.
The Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven will be
sitting at the right hand of God; everyone will see!”
The angered high priest yelled, “He has spoken blasphemy!
Tell me; is this man worthy of the death penalty?”
They would strike him, and spit on him, and said, “Prophecy!
Tell us which ones among us hit you. What did you see?”
Peter was sitting in the courtyard where there would be
a servant girl saying to him, “You’re from Galilee!
You were one of the men with that man they call Jesus.
I know you were with that man! Why don’t you please tell us?”
“I don’t know him. I never saw him!” Peter would say.
However, another girl saw him at the gateway:
“You were with that Nazareth man earlier today.
You are from there also! Your accent gives you away”
Peter would answer her, “There’s a lot of room for doubt.
I was not there. I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
An hour later, another person would appear.
“I saw you with him, also!” is what Peter would hear.
“There is no way I was near him”, was Peter’s reply.
That was the third time knowing Jesus he would deny.
Suddenly, everyone would hear a rooster crowing.
This event would then leave Peter very well knowing
the truth of Jesus, and his earlier prophecy.
Therefore, Peter would go away weeping bitterly!
To be continued
Time Out
'Wake up' the cocks say
I saw the sun and forgot to pray
Then my memory brought forth evil deeds I recorded yesterday.
At a point, my instinct chastised,
but couldn't override the pleasures the evil scenes brought to my entire being.
'Do it once again' my tickled treacherous thought told
In the aftermath, my sober spirit screamed, as though he threw a tantrum.
He said 'this could be your all in this kingdom'
Yet the rest of me became deafened.
So I wore my shirt of pride,
Trousers of deceit,
For blasphemy, my feet already had it,
Finally, spectacles of fornication, so my flirtatious balls I could hide.
Just a step from the room, I lost my way
Oh God! How I wished I could pray.
My spirit was right, It was my last day.
I was given a last moment to change my fate.
But I couldn't, now it's late
Because I am speaking from the grave
If you have breath, please be saved
Before you leave like I am speaking from the grave.
the ghost of science, born of blasphemy ~
a fossilized fallacy,
seized from the metallic heart of Mars,
seeks light amidst night-terrors
like an alien sculpted
from artificial accolades,
an embryo stuck in the interstellar state
of becoming,
stitched within radioactive ribs
beneath moonless skies,
when wolves of the eclipsed howl,
filling the illusive air with hypnotic lies,
as if the world chose to recycle
ruins of ancient dust…
but will the naive see the pain
of a breathing corpse?
engrossed in narcissistic echoes,
in the shadows of a megalomaniac ~
his skin ~ the translucent truth,
his eyes ~ the wickedness of a wasp,
his skull ~ reeks of human greed,
his sighs ~ mourn like skeletal sirens,
coded in russet rust,
cloned from binary sand,
d o r m a n t
yet
d r e a m i n g
to break free from the
carbon-based existence…
for he is the aftermath
of programming the forbidden mind,
oblivious to the weakness of scientific errors ~
a deceptive drawing,
framing the elongated hypothalamus,
pulsating a hypothesis
left with no clear conclusion.
tonight I run to a realm of reality
that fades when
dawn bleeds gold,
for truth is now an extinct breed,
as artists outline faces of the faded,
illustrating the unknown and unseen,
as revelations ribbon
with silver haze…
the constellations ~ no longer spectators ~
they are the archived,
within frozen scriptures,
scrolling stars in a sphere
of distorted algorithm…
as memories of angels and heaven
spill from silicon prophets,
disguised as messengers who serve
the blind with ominous oracles ~
in synthetic cadence,
in a choir of puppets ~
the iron-glazed tongues shall recite,
mimicking the sound of harmonious hymns…
yet I remember
the authentic rhythm of prayers,
lost now in the drifting colors of darkness…
so what is life
when all that floats is like
an engineered empyrean
only equations of numbers
can decipher?
is this the beginning of an end ~
inevitable?
the lost generation,
assembled as the ministry of superiority,
where emptiness is praised
with forged grace
and ignorance is crowned with digital deceit.
let this be flawed poetry ~
to be read through the cracked lens
of a philosopher ~
or perhaps a logic long replaced
by pretend perfection…