Poetry Thread: Athiest/Agnostic themed poetry welcome!

[Orson Welles]

Damn, I didn't notice there was a poetry thread until now. sweatdrop Anyways, here's a poem I had been writing in my head yesterday and I put it down on paper later:


My concience can't choose
It's Advice is refused
I don't need it's twisted input
The Man you once knew
Would march in his shoes
But now he dances barefoot


My mind was my friend
'Til I lost him again
Like the tune of a broken record
What, where, when
Said the letter I penned
To the god who's heart is checkered

I actually just started writing poetry. I'm going to write more poems when I can.  

[Meirelle]

Preaching Physics

Miriam told me that science is the first and only religion with proof. There is no need for faith, she said. The Truth has been discovered through trial and error, hypothesis turned to theory turned to law. Science approaches the Divine from an Eastern perspective—God is not external, but is instead found within ourselves. Modern science, I discovered, worships the atom; the carbon molecule is the creator of life. I told Miriam that modern science is no different than modern Christianity. Electrons cannot be seen, I said, and quarks and quasars are the product of test results. Those with faith still see miracles as proof of God’s existence. A mess of atoms—mostly hollow, mostly nothing—can combine to form a living, intelligent being. Miriam could tell me how this was done, but she could not tell me why, and I told her she had more faith than I’ll ever have.  

[Sanguvixen]

I recall saying that I would try my hand at Poetry again.

Well I came up with something. As a back-drop I was fishing for ideas and decided that I would use something from memory. So this poem is based on my last church experience...and this time I tried to add more imagery. So enjoy!

Sunday Posers

A golden orb, pierces the horizon
Palest light trickles downward
First a drizzle, then a downpour
The ebony vault turns blue
Flickering eyes blink and fade, giving way to Sunday

Heads held high, hands clap, and voices ring
Heads bow low, hands fold, voices cease to sing
Ritual and tradition unfold and intertwine
Then the sermons springs to life

"Love they neighbor" it howls
Yet the masses smite all those who are unlike them
"Thou shall not judge" it wails
So the masses pass frequent judgments
In the pews they are humble, righteous, and pure
Anywhere else they are arrogant, ignorant, and tainted
Theists who act untheistic
Are pretenders
They are worse than those they oppose
Eyes roll madly, screaming at supposed heathens
They, the pretenders
Are the real heathens
When the golden sphere sinks into the sky
It will rise to herald the coming Monday
The pretenders then become what they oppose
The real A-theists, the antithesis of theism.

 

[Tenth Speed Writer]

I couldn't agree with that more.

Particularly, how most will sit and act as though they're perfect in the loving, good-mannered, perfectly moral image and then return to life nothing like that, as if just to bask in having somebody tell them that they have the moral high ground.

Almost like children fishing for praise.  

[Sanguvixen]

Tenth Speed Writer

I couldn't agree with that more.

Particularly, how most will sit and act as though they're perfect in the loving, good-mannered, perfectly moral image and then return to life nothing like that, as if just to bask in having somebody tell them that they have the moral high ground.

Almost like children fishing for praise.

Well, they are not all like that. However, you cannot ignore the fact that some people act as though going to church makes them such perfect individuals. Or the fact that they attend church as a family makes them good, flawless people.

I don't know...it's actually a raw nerve to meet people who glorify themselves or others, and pretend to stand on this amazing pedestal...all because they go to church. I don't like it...particularly when in the world outside of church they act nothing like they do in church, and they don't even follow what they preach. It's like...they are all pretenders.

I tried to inject more imagery in this one, and at the same time not sound so harsh. I think I halfway succeeded.

 

[Orson Welles]

I wrote this today:

Don't even speak
You travel for weeks
On a route of blinded reason

The trail heads South
Your sealed mouth's
Philosophy is treason

Mysteries
They grow on trees
Their answers lie in gravel

Crack their code
And take the road
You thought you'd never travel  

[Orson Welles]

I wrote most of this really quickly in my head during lunch and wrote it down:

Walter dug his mind a hole
Buried it in fertile soil
Never thinks before he prays
Live his life in pitied ways

"Walter, dear, why can't you see
Beyond your dull theology?"

Ignorance, it comes in mounds
Kings of kings don't wear their crowns
Intellect, it drives him mad
He sinks in thoughts he never had

"Walter, dear, don't ever please
Live your life on bended knees!"