Long Evangelists Poems
Long Evangelists Poems. Below are the most popular long Evangelists by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Evangelists poems by poem length and keyword.
I fear people have lost their way,
hatred and lies now rule their day;
morals have faded over time.
Purchasing political will,
Big business is pardoned to kill
and perpetuate fear through crime.
Politicians kneel down to God,
but their devotion's a fraud.
For some, faith is but a pastime,
a mockery of true belief.
Exploiting people's pain and grief,
greed fuels anxiety's climb.
Alternative truths are just lies—
merely bigotry in disguise.
"Love thy neighbor" was God's decree,
not: manipulate them through fear.
Such behavior warrants a tear,
and I believe God would agree.
And yet, evangelists, meanwhile,
preach that immigrants are hostile.
Heaven's gate is locked; love's the key,
and no other will get you through.
Come judgment day, God will judge you;
that is Jesus's Divine decree.
Although I am a ***** white Queen
let me reassure you
I can be just as mean
or as green,
Mr. Clean,
as any fascist
conjured in your wildest
wettest dream.
I can kick my ruby RightWing heels
and hold my greenly skanky breath
as long as it takes, tis true,
until you eventually agree
to turn less boring white
and unenlightened blue
It's true,
I can spread my fascist net,
get in line with Straight White Men
with penile envy
of dark-skinned vets
you never could acknowledge seeing
in the singing shower
much less slurping
in your homophobic panic
nastiest place to hide
just yet.
Although a ***** male Queen
married to the blackest man
you've ever seen,
You may rest re-assured
I've clearly found it true
as red
white
and blushing blue:
Once a person
and a nation
has tried black,
There's a whole lotta happy folk
don't care to go back
to refight a civil war
against a white flight bully bore
Supremely self-chosen evangelists,
y'all just help me
deeply snore.
You think
and feel,
know
and spiel,
I'm rotten to my core
because, like your sissy sister
it's men this male adores
But, if men were good enough
for your sainted mother,
and hers too,
and my two,
let me introduce this thought
to you
It wouldn't really make you
all that blue
to admit just maybe
all that pleasure
could suit a special man just fine
too,
But, don't worry,
be happy,
I'm not the least bit hot
for white bread
RightWing you.
The alleyways within the maze are paved with rats and mice.
Evangelists with moneyed fists collect the sacrifice
from losers scorned and rubes reborn, and promise paradise,
while in the back they cook some crack, inhale, and roll the dice.
A bum called Boe has stubbed his toe, he’s stumbled in the gutter;
with broken neck, he looks a wreck, the sparrows all aflutter,
the passers-by, they close an eye, and turn their heads and mutter:
“Let’s pray for rains to wash the lanes, to clear away the clutter.”
A river slows neath mountain snows, and leaves begin to shudder.
Though rip-off shops and crooked cops are paid not once but thrice,
the painted girl with flaxen curl is paring down her price
and loosely tempts cold hands unkempt to touch the merchandise.
A crazy guy cries “where am I”, a schizo titters twice,
and double quick a lunatic affects a fight with lice.
The jungle teems, a siren screams, the air is filled with meth.
The Reverent Priest and nuns unleash the Holy Shibboleth.
And Righteous Jane who is insane, as well as Sister Beth,
while telling tales to no avail of everlasting death,
at least imbue Hagg Avenue with whisky on their breath.
The Reverent Priest combats the Beast, they’re kneeling down to prey,
to fight the truth with fang and tooth, to toil for yesterday,
to etch their mark within the dark, to paint their résumé
on shrouds and sheets which then completes the devil’s dossier.
Old dan, he's drunk and in a funk, all mired in the mud.
A Monk begins to wash Dan’s sins, and asks “How are you, Bud?”
“I’m feeling pain and crying rain till soon there is a flood.
And no god’s there who seems to care I’m always coughing blood.”
The Monk, he turns, Dan’s words he spurns and lets the bible thud.
Well, Banjo Boy, he will annoy with jangled rhymes that fray:
“The clanging bells of carousels lead blind men’s minds astray
to rings of gold they’ll never hold in fingers made of clay.
But crest and crown will crumble down, when withered roots decay.”
Continued
I stay close to home these days,
my roaming needs seeming to
expire with age, finding more
of what I need in the Silence
of packing; of course, this
worn-out body is far too cumbersome
to even contemplate wanting – like
frayed clothing, now best for rags;
like empty cans for the recyclable:
I wonder how Earth will handle
my re-purposing?~as for my poetry,
will my works know future lips? Be
Whispered and sung, inspiring others
fancying fireside light and chat, within
the warmth of flickering, yet mysterious
shadows? Or will my words, unceremoniously
settle like bird droppings on tombstones,
surrounded by laurels of weeds, a forgotten
chapter? That settles it, I will opt for cremation!
Leaving tombstones and graves for
most politicians, TV Evangelists, and
Movie-stars, needing their world
monuments where the Devil will
easily find them for substantive
reunions....
Fatima was always dressed up fittingly as any occasion called for
Today one might call her a performance artist but she was
A hippie and child of God always good for some drama though
Was not taken seriously in the reviews in the Paradise Gazette
All she wanted was to be seen as playful serene and sophisticated
First thing it were dates that started the show in the garden
And she had never performed in the nude let alone seduced
She played Hamlet and Noah Mephistopheles and Juliet
Let her hair down to climb down from Babylonian towers
Her repertoire was enormous and to her chagrin so was her bust
‘They always look at my bosom and never hear a word that I say
Fake voyeuristic news and when things go wrong I get the blame’
She was made for the stage in the Big Apple not dated palms’
Tried olives but they were too small and peaches far too symbolic
Bananas were phallic and there was no couch in the garden
‘Fatima at her best again a gorgeous woman with forbidden fruit
But she covers up and her sidekick Mohamed bears the cost
She must reveal more of her natural talent and not hide her loins’
Her mountain quivered in disgust of the lecherous media and
Pressed for fame she developed a different plot with a twist
‘Mohamed let’s be traditional and awaken the punters with apples
We could juggle and whenever we drop one we’ll take off some clothes
The last one with fancy knickers gets to skin the snake as a prize'
High into sensational air they went but could not catch the globes
It was not divine as such but they created the first nudist camp
Once all garments were ripped off the good Lord smiled as they pleased
History must not be falsified and the legend carried on for millennia
Evangelists spread the message and facebook has millions of hits
Finally the audience got a full un-redacted view of naked scripture
Fatima was a transgender man and the serpent had a pearl for an oyster
01st Agust 2019
Great Evangelists must be very strong
I think Billy Graham really belongs Billy became my hero
Mr. Graham helped me grow
His preaching has turned many from their wrongs
09142017 PS Contest, Name Dropper Limerick, Kevin Shaw 1st, 2nd, and 5th lines= Rhymes with 10 syllables each;
3rd & 4th lines= Rhymes with 7 syllables each.
Sing a song for the ladies
walking the street
With three little children
And nothing to eat.
Sing a song for the addict
who cant seem to kick
and dreams of a life
of not being sick
This song is for me and you
With nothing left to lose
Cause I'm drunk again
Steady singin'
The rest of us blues.
A toast to the immigrants
a cheer to the young
who cant keep a handle on
what is to come.
Keep track of your family,
keep track of your dreams
Cause nothing is ever
quite as it seems
And we limp on though
and our rent is overdue
were stoned again but that's old news
singin the rest of us blues.
La La dee die, la la dee doh
La la dee dah, la la dee doh
La La dee die la lie dee doh
loh loh dee doh
Say a prayer for the drunkards
entombed in the streets
Say a prayer for the workers
dead on his feet.
All your high powered kings
And divas and queens
preach midschool values
And tighten their jeans.
And our time is overdue,
And you try and make it through
with our dumpster diving shoes
Into the rest of us lose.
Raise a glass for your mother
and toast your old man
Left dying in state homes,
you do the best that you can.
Surrounded by lies,
surrounded by schemes
(Of stepping on visions
and stomping out dreams) not spoken or sung, but implied)
And we read the social news
and swallow some more booze
Theyre marching us two by two
Into the rest of us lose.
No time for the homeless
no time for the poor
No time for evangelists
Knocking my door
We pray on our knees
awaiting the call
But one choice to live
is no choice at all
And people of color will lose
As we long to stand to choose
That is everything is so smooth
and the rest of us lose.
La La dee die, la la dee doh
La la dee dah, la la dee doh
La La dee die la lie dee doh
loh loh dee doh
This song is for me and you
With nothing left to lose
Cause I'm drunk again
Steady singin'
The rest of us blues.
Within sleepy sheep folds
of retributive divine justice
postponed til kingdom comes
and diva queens go
to hell where we sinfully belong
like all unfaithful *******
refusing to shuck and jive
custody of 20/20 eyes
and to disconnect bicameral ears,
Discovering within these quiet unexamined folds
remains an uncreative fundamental tension
between evangelical healing justice
and bad faith zealotry,
Between good news of God's universal EarthLove
and dark colonizing missionary zeal
to overpower alien health and happiness,
compassion and gratitude for global regenerate nature
spiritual nondualism.
Zealotry of StraightWhiteMale scriptural reconstructions
in Western roots fed by colonization memories
of overpowering violence.
Evangelical multicultural good news
roots are living watered
by creolizing necessities,
communal simplicity,
non-elite sufficiency
found in multiculturing non-violent domestic herstories,
communication circles ecofeminist
compassioned philosophies
of ecologically green resonant theology,
restorative win/win EarthJustice,
permacultural health-system therapies.
Zealotry is born of punishing bad faith
in colonizing memories.
Evangelism is born of healing good faith
in polycultural creolizing visions.
Zealotry is extrinsically LeftBrain dominant
and anti-Christlike.
Evangelism is intrinsically RightBrain prominent
and EarthCreation healing.
Which version of Christianity
do you find supported
by Republican StraightWhiteMale TrumpCards?
How might this compare unfavorably
to GreenDemocrat ecofeminist compassion therapy
if you are more of a Gospel Health-Crusading Evangelical?
Angels we have heard on high,
Blowing trumpets in the sky,
Helping us to breathe a sigh,
Of Joy that we shall never die,
Angels we have heard on high,
Saying love is truth that ties,
Us all as one these tears I cry,
For all the songs that we shall sing,
As we make earth and heaven ring,
With sounds of crack babies getting free,
Through curses fading beneath the feet,
Of evangelists spreading love on streets,
Replete with souls hungry to hear,
That there is nothing nowhere to fear,
As children smile ear to ear,
And brothers share stories over beers,
As Muslims see their Messiah come,
And Christians see that life has won,
As schizophrenics dance at dawn,
Knowing that their pain is gone,
Angels we have heard on high,
Freeing us from dark one’s lies,
Showing all the God within,
That lights our souls and masters sin,
That makes girls ladies and wee ones men,
That chants Om Hari Hari Om,
And tunes into abundance tones,
That helps us stay faithful to our wives,
That guides our hearts throughout our lives,
That helps our spirits come alive,
Awakening to calls to rise,
Angels we have heard on high,
Speaking of a God of Love,
Above, below, within and everywhere,
Waiting to embrace with grace in hands to share,
Angels we have heard on high,
Blowing trumpets in the sky,
Helping us to breathe a sigh,
That we are safe in the hands of God,
And God won’t let us down,
That true we may feel oh so lost,
But to God we’re already found,
Angels we have heard on high,
Chanting oh so powerfully,
Of love’s everlasting victory,
And Love’s wondrous choice after Adam’s fall,
To send us a Savior who has saved us all!
Grand theft Jesus happens every day
People use HIS Name for the wrong reason
Deception will increase!
It is sad to see that a man who is always so positive on TV
Can be so negative in real life!
Life on stage can be pretentious
However, those on TV must keep the show going!
Christian TV may have to change because
It is the easiest way to channel false doctrine and
In reality, it is happening right now!
Many TV evangelists have committed Grand Theft Jesus!
Too many want to use His name for the wrong reason
In reality, they commit Grand Theft Jesus
May God open our eyes so that we
Just do not listen to any man because
He has on a ‘suit and tie’ and speaks about Jesus
Let us ask God through Jesus Christ our Lord who
We should read and listen to it because there are too
Many men can take you off course!
Grand theft Jesus happens every day
People use HIS Name for the wrong reason
Deception will increase
Many have committed Grand Theft Jesus