Poems. By user

Darwinism's debunked? Clearly you flunked subscribing to creationism.
Dogmatism's defunct, science has this one skunked, embrace secularism.

Yet the believer preaches the Deceiver's feline lies lie in me rife.
The pact that cats made has a price to be paid, allotting their lot after life.

Witches were burned for by cats they were turned towards sin to be cleansed with fire.
They sell you to hell for nine lives and a dwell and won't tire to pile the pyre higher.

The "wings of the devil" just level my revel and soothes the fiery sooth.
Only through gnosis can one banish narcosis and sleuth towards spiritual truth.

So cast off the chain that shackles your brain and strains and drains your soul.
Sin and grace is just used to replace what one needs to be complete and whole.

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poems and rhymes time after time wont save you from the place you're going
a place full of screams where wickedness gleams all the while while knowing
it didn't have to be i was a fool not to see the truth set right 'fore my eyes
bewitched i was, ensared by doctrines and lies
chief among them the prince he sits contemplating what to do next
but we know he's been beat so take a seat and admit defeat
secularism is a prism where light turns to dark
and demons do hark about the misery they weave
here on earth the prince full of mirth at the plan he sets out to achieve
but this ends my poem nothing more to be said so i think i'll take my leave

adios, ciao, hope you have a blast but i'll have the last laugh

jesus is lord

The fire of fear which you stoke with the spear
of Longinus belies your jeery veneer.

Every prophet, preacher and saint
has the same quaint picture of existence they paint.

A future of doom, gloom and dread,
unless their path we carefully tread.

"You are born poisoned, lost and impure.
But do not fear, brothers, because I have the cure!"

"Just do as I say and I'll show you the way,
salvation is yours if you'll only obey!"

"Heed not the charlatans that claim I'm amiss
for they'll burn in hell while I'll show you true bliss."

Yet the divinely inspired can never agree
on which prayers and which rituals will set our souls free.

Do we listen to all? Or just listen to one?
Should I sacrifice a cat, or my only begotten son?

Should I avoid eating pork, shrimp or beef?
Am I even allowed a brief aperitif?

Spirits, angels, demons; the list goes on and on.
Is there only one god or a whole pantheon?

Faced with the plethora of possible truths and lies,
unending theologies blur as one in my eyes.

I have no recourse but to judge with what's known,
the only voice I should heed is the one that I own.

Rooftop

I climb the ladder
To the roof
And it's good to be alive.
I've an aging British rifle
Made in nineteen forty-five.

The serb come into town today
And they don't expect a fight
But this aging British rifle's
Got a telescopic sight.

Up on the roof
I'll have a view
Of most of market street
And the serb will have to
Come down here
To find something to eat -

Up on the roof
I'll make my stand
I won't be coming down
Till they blow me from
This rooftop
Or I drive them from
This town.

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>not "I hang dogs from trees, so I can raise the roof"

a voice thats your own? but how do you know
that voice is yours and not from below?
fear the lord and wisdom begins
so i'll take the time for a couple of mins
to set your thoughts right before i depart
lets lay done some truth, thats my kind of art

god created man, his free will abounding
but the serpent beguiled, treach'ry astounding
don't eat from this tree the only command
not much to ask, a simple demand
mans disobedience brought forth sin
into the world we now live in

God sent forth prophets to bring his good news
to his chosen people, early days jews
he has a plan, mans sins he will cleanse
then we'll get along, then we'll all be friends
his son they rejected, they crucified him
for our iniquities, a lamb without sin
all you must do is repent of your ways
and call on his name the rest of your days
my yoke is easy, my burden is light
and with those words i bid you goodnight
you've exhausted my rhymes, this i admit
not bad for someone who's not even Yea Forums

And if I get down
From this rooftop
I am going to kiss the earth
These people could not pay
What one good mercernary's worth.

But they can't defend themselves
So, I suppose its up to me.
And I must have got religion
Cause I fight this one for free!

Down at the end of Market street
A heavy truck appears
I chamber in a .303
The gun blash hurts my ears

I'm firing hot and heavy now
The gun jumps in my hands.
If I get killed on this rooftop
I hope someone understands-

There's women and there's kids below,
Their men folk have been killed.
Yes, you could float a battleship
In blood this war has spilled-

And, yes I know, I'm killing more
I know just what I am
But I'm trying to save these kids,
Past that, I just don't give a damn.

The Serb return fire,
And there's a steady smacking sound
As big bullets hit the brickwork
Like big raindrops hit the ground.

And something nicks my elbow
And something nips my ear
There's the stinging swell of gun smoke-
There's the ringing thrill of fear

And I fire my gun
Until I'm nearly deaf and dumb
And blind
But I've got them on the run now
And they've left that truck behind.

That is not all they're leaving
Hell, I must've killed a score
Man, this is not television
This is bloody fucking war!

And I get down from the rooftop
And I kneel and kiss the ground
I am grateful and amazed
To find that I am still around

And a little, bitty girl
She comes to kiss me on the cheek-
Well, I may not live forever
But I did not die this week!

I climb back up
Onto the roof
And it's good to be alive
With my aging British rifle
Made in nineteen fourty-five.

-Mickey

Thoughts?

Aware of it or not, we don't have a choice,
we always default to our innermost voice.

Even your faith can not escape this,
your inner voice tells you to choose heaven's bliss.

If you feed your voice fear, then fear it will speak,
but listening to fear only makes your soul weak.

My voice might be fallible but yours is as well.
We are both caught in its charm, we are under its spell.

Yet my voice has been trained to always self-doubt,
I challenge my assumptions because I assume I'm a lout.

I chisel all day at my paradigmatic flaws,
Just like I chiseled away at ol' Santa Claus.

I know the Bible's story, and many other too
and with enough faith they all can seem true.

Hope, happiness, love, fear, sorrow and guilt.
You can't hear a clear voice choking on emotional silt.

How do you know that the voice that you hear,
isn't just the devil being a master puppeteer?

The religion you follow could just be his device.
A wolf in God's robes promising a false paradise.

Whether heaven or hell exists I'll just have to wait and see,
but if I do go to hell at least I'll be in good company.

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I'm not really capable of giving constructive feedback but I enjoyed reading it.

Ty

I am having a hard time following the thread and only gave it a cursory glance. The words are not very musical or poetic but there seem to be an enormous amount of very original, very good ideas running up and down this thread.

Well done whoever you are.

>Well done whoever you are.
T-thanks. I think, if you are referring to the "cats are evil/inner voice is god" poster that is.

I wish I had more time to work on metre/tempo/flow/musicality but that is a lot harder than just vanilla rhyming. But I'm a complete amateur at poetry, I just starter writing here on a whim for lulz.

But I must say having the typical shitposting exchange on Yea Forums in poetry form was incredibly fun. I wanted to keep it up in this post but I have things to do today.

I think I'm going to take up poetry as a serious interest, so thanks to all the anons that played along.

Also kys tripfriend

you still don't understand, you still don't see
that inner voice, is not you or me
who do you think is writing these things?
a divine spirit, far above kings?
that inner voice comes down from above
to rest 'pon you like a perching dove
but you it is not, of that be aware
to take it seriously is to lose all care
for another voice comes down form below
to lead you astray, to deal a bad blow
to lead you astray all of your days
so don't listen to it, whatever it says
even if it rhymes perfectly well
it won't be worth much to wind up in hell
how do i know the devil isn't my master?
i've cast him aside with glee and laughter
for how can satan drive out himself
so now take a look at your bookshelf
some cleaning to do some books to throw out
but don't be sad, don't start to put
get yourself a king james version
and thus begins your day of conversion.

pout* not put

This thread needs a bump before it ends in the dump.

If the voice of the devil and the voice of God
are the ones that I have heard,
does that mean that "my" voice is but a fraud
and its existence is absurd?

For how can I discern that I am not The Lord?
Or is this the Devil speaking?
Is there any point to be cast under His ward?
Am I just a divine plaything?

What is there to save if I am a voiceless slave?
A programmable robotic drone,
to follow other voices all the way to my grave
Like a born again Dolly the clone.

In order to praise The Lord up in Heaven
action on ones part's required.
The choice to repent sin so the soul can leaven
needs a voice that is unmired.

The mistake that you make is the false assumption
that the voices aren't your own.
They're one and the same psychological function,
your subconscious has more than one tone.

What you call God and satan are both the same,
as with angels, kami and djinn.
You only call them all by a different name,
yet they are all closer than kin.

Our inner demons are primal apparitions
spawned when we get confused and hurt.
Evangelists seeks those in weakened conditions,
Praying on prey to convert.

LARPing as Jesus with a message pristine,
burning of books you beseech?
The impression you give is that of a philistine
if this is what you preach.

of this i tire, my only desire
to be left alone, not sit on a throne
a voice comes to me and tells me to write
so that's what i do i dont put up a fight
words come to me they pop in my head
even though i would rather be in bed
where is my voice amidst all this?
don't i get a say, isn't something amiss?
what can i do except reply?
i've given myself, i may aswell die
i don't even try to make these rhymes
they just come to me at innapropriate times
something within me compells me to write
is that my own will or some godly sprite?
before all this i was blissfully ignorant
but now i have a gift that seems heaven sent
effortless poems from the tip of my pen
added to the heap, not to be read again
before i went mad i had no desire to rhyme
but i guess its better now than a life full of crime
what to do now but preach the gospel?
otherwise i might end back in hospital
i didn't write this poem alone and i admit it myself
so leave me alone, before you ruin my health.

insert line ten

but he who gives his life will save his soul
thats what i believe, thats what i've been told

I have to admit I enjoy this exchange of wit
but there is one thing to point out before you split.
You're the one that should leave me alone for your health
because I'm not the one that started this bit.

But be well fren, perhaps we'll meet again
And may the voice that inspire you keep guiding your pen.

Amen.

i don't necessarily believe all i say
i follow the rhymes, they lead me astray
i did too enjoy this exchange
but i guess now it's time for a change

goodspeed fren, nice rhyming with you

"The Victim! Oh the Victim!"
They know not what they say.
Let the strong do what he will,
A victim suffers what she may.