Short Agnostic Poems

Listen to poem:

agnostic belief
is confined to scepticism -
digging for answers...

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The fear of God
is not as threatening
As the fear
— he might not be

(Augustinian Graveyard: July, 2024)


...

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Apostle you
Agnostic me

When turnaround

You me
I you

But all around

Its HE!

Krishna Baalu/14-07-2009...

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An agnostic already all assuming about
Antiquated adulating adulterated arrogance.

So who can you describe with words
all beginning with the same letter?

Jim Horn...

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Nonbeliever
by Michael R. Burch writing as Kim Cherub

She smiled a thin-lipped smile
(What do men know of love?)
then rolled her eyes toward heaven
(Or that Chauvinist above?)....

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I must reject the holy-moly, mumbo-jumbo,
All that spirituality soup—Chicken Dumbo.
Atheists, Existentialists, and I, Agnostic,
Eschew the false enlightenment—socially caustic....

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Yes, we are older ladies.
All with molten hips and knees,
Agnostic or Catholic fantasies?
Nothing like a good chick lit.
Who on earth wrote this blip?
Love is pulsating away,
I'll enjoy this book today!...

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Once ravaged, souls salvaged
haunt savaged:
nostalgic for magic
in tragic
dreams psychotic, script agnostic
by despotic
lies chivalrous (shed fibrous
force frivolous)
to begin, my chagrin.
Our coffin
tailspin
plans covertly
to pervert
or convert....

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Speak to me with silent lips
Lest I learn to know your voice, 

Touch my hand with fleeting grace
Lest I find I need your warmth, 

Form your smile in flesh alone
Lest I come to love your soul, 

Pass me by in twilight's haze
Lest I wake to find you gone....

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"Mommy, is god everywhere?"
"Yes, honey, god is everywhere."
"Does that mean god's in the toilet?"
"I suppose so."
"If I flush god is he still in the toilet?"
"Yes, he'd still be there."
"Is god in the pus from a popped pimple?"
"Go cut me a switch so I can give you a whipping."...

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The world of money is still there
        Beating its way 
into one's  brains
Poetry is fluff
    omnipresent dollar
But still.....
A few lines can touch 
the Jewish Soul, the Christian soul,
the atheist and agnostic soul
So if you get the 
    chance
Write or listen to a poem...

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Derailed, dizzy, drunk, I snore on my floor.
Naked, unshaven, bald I don’t beg for a penny.
Rotten poems, intellectual crap, I'm agnostic.
Warm dialogues, Worms all over me, I'm reckless.
Shivering and shouting, I'm searching for my balls.
Hallucination, Marijuana, dreams, life is a gas balloon....

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 believers
                      devout, fervent
         accepting, aiming, progressing
worshippers, devotees, persistent, cynics
     disbelieving, bearing, confounding
                   agnostic, cautious
                          skeptics...

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The Atheist

 am I the person
   who disbelieves existence
of God--for lack of

can’t see HIM---visions
   concept confused---based religions
agnostic,  skeptic

doubt, disbeliever
   doubting Thomas atheist
lack nonbeliever


11/24/18
For The Atheist Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen...

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Into a meadow,
I stopped by a gate

I often happened this way

Upon the stile I lent my arms,
Closing my eyes for a while

It often happened this way

Deep in my mind's eye
A vision,clear as day

They oftimes happen this way

This face of  a man,
Had become known to me

I had begun to walk His way.

...

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The Birdsong of Ludovico,
New to my agnostic ears,
Commences unrestrained 
From a godly source

To irrigate my fields,
To rearrange my clouds,
To tantalize my doubts,
To render my cathedral..

His royal nest of birdsong notes
Fills my congregation
With an unknowable truth:
Yes there is a source,

I can be sure,
I am not lost....

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Agnostic me the Atheist –
the devil’s advocate.
No worship, church or being blessed;
No feeling for religious hate.

Bombarded by the hands of God,
for vacuum must be filled,
so every faith does seek my nod
to have their oath instilled.

But God and Godless are not foes
that snarl across the land.
It is two faiths where hatred grows
beyond a line drawn in the sand....

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Call me agnostic.
Call me an atheist.
Call me a non-believer.
But I'm not a Christian.

All lifeforms evolve.
Creations resolved.

Tell me about hell.
Tell me about your book.
Tell me some more fairytales.
I don't believe in it.

I'm in hell.
It was put here to deceive me.
I don't believe in fairytales.
We share a common ancestor.

All lifeforms evolve.
Creations resolved....

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A proud agnostic, but a bit fair,
Truth of truths to me once did aver—
A guy clear as blue sky,
If per chance a bit wry:
If I know not, no one knows either!

Agnostic sure an either or bird,
Milk gone sour as if turned into curd,
One that fakes two-way fun,
To me, all said and done
Be the bisexual of this odd world.
________________________________ 
Reflections |03.05.2023| humour...

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for the terrifying first time,
strange, humbling feeling,
catches himself imploring,
praying almost, to the One
he has been longing to know,
but, in all honesty, just cannot;

he now pleads for blessings
of ignorance and forgetting,
opting to take a scary step
for which all, all the walking
in his life has successfully
failed to properly prepare him:

... to beg, "teach me to pray."...

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A being so mighty he made everything
God is his name, they speak it, or sing
No-one can prove that he really exists
Oh how can it be that the rumour persists
Such beauty abounds on this planet we dwell
Though war and atrocity loiter as well
It’s ‘faith’ that says thanks for the good things we’ve had
Claiming ‘mysterious ways’ for the bad...

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  i’m a poet not a prophet ~ to believe otherwise would be odd

  i blur visions of rhyme with latent reason ~ exactly like a god 

  so many times I’ve felt abandoned ~ desperate for a tiny nod 

  to see it in my rearview mirror ~ mr bobble head is overawed 

                                     #footnote#

  i’ve had unexplained interventions in this life ~ agnostic i trod

By
David Kavanagh...

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White May Blossoms
quake their blushing bells.

Agnostic winds roam,
whisking through,
a chill and pensive sky.

Spring may well appear,
yet today once more,
winter has resurrected itself,
with a sly cold wink.

Daffodils spectate,
wait and shiver,
on the sidelines.

Small dogs sniff the nippy shoes,
of brisk walkers,
then hurry onward -
their tell-tale tails
halfway up
and halfway down.


...

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I
God always wins the wager if we live long on earth... and even if we don't.

II
Some questions die with questioners; even if God heard the questioning daily (for 90 years)

III
If Jesus died for the sins of those born after 2000, will more from India and China be in heaven? Will whites be a minority in heaven?

IV
If race and color don't matter in heaven, God is miserly not to have given more practice here...

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Dead and distant.
Someone's personal best friend.

Don't say his name, don't draw his face.

He or She or They are an A Flat or a B Sharp,
or a thought, a spark, or a coming together,
Everything or nothing at all,
or love.
The beginning and the end.
The Alpha dog the scruffy human pack seeks,
roaming wildly in the quest for answers.

God is an A Flat or a B Sharp,
but not a Middle C.
That would just be too ordinary....

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