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A mothers gift to her religous affair
Contributed by
absolutspin
on
Tuesday, 18th October 2005 @ 12:52:46 PM in AEST
Topic:
AngryPoetry
|
Whisper pain that induces leaking
So quick to serve you up
on the cheapest dish she could find
body cold, eyes closed
you dreamed
that inside her you connected
and she held you and protected
but you knew she passed out the pack she had,
like girls come easy
this stinging dripped on my cheek
and what a waste i've dug to deep
once again feeling incomplete
maybe it's the pieces of me she let them keep
a few shy of regurgitating sleepless nights
She pimped for Jesus, and he preached
Hey little girls, no panties in sleep
wonder if the bible between my thighs would feel right
since its lost its effect on my head and chest, guilt and fear
your disciples haven't reached any further than up my skirt
and they say you guided thier hands
just like your father a slippery guy
he slid right up Mary's thighs
did she want you inside?
just another vase for your roses
what a dissapointment
she's always liked sunflowers
Copyright ©
absolutspin
... [
2005-10-18 12:52:46]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: A mothers gift to her religous affair
(User Rating: 1 )
by enigma on
Tuesday, 18th October 2005 @ 03:40:05 PM AEST
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It's the end of my day and I've got to get home to my wife and child.
religion has the propensity for spiritual rape... Do note that I said, "religion," and not the common euphemism, "God," or "spirituality." I'm afraid "Dad" gets a bad rap for what is done in His name...
Bless you. I, too, was raped.
more tomorrow
blessings,
enigma |
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Re: A mothers gift to her religous affair
(User Rating: 1 )
by hauntedscorp on
Tuesday, 18th October 2005 @ 06:44:28 PM AEST
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Woah...this is blunt. Kudos to you for posting this. The crude and vulgar way you wrote this really drives home the point,
and forces the reader to take notice. Very emotive. Well done.
Scorp. |
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Re: A mothers gift to her religous affair
(User Rating: 1 )
by enigma on
Wednesday, 19th October 2005 @ 09:03:22 AM AEST
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I'm back...enigma...I am obviously not cognizant of the particulars of your experience...that unimaginable suffering was cause is readily seen...this is how I described my "religious" experience in a recent essay...
Like you, I have a difficult time Loving ---. Always have. Not because I treat other people badly, which I take great pains not too, sometimes by simply avoiding them. But because I was raised to "take up my cross," "carry my burden," "go into all the world and preach the gospel," "turn the other cheek," "those that don't multiply their 'talents' tenfold will lose what they have and be thrown into the pit where there is unquenchable fire and gnashing of teeth," that "faith without works is dead," "all have sinned and come short of the glory of god," "the dog returns to its vomit," "god rejects the impure," "except you be as sinless as these children, you shall not see the kingdom of god," "once you have tasted of god's goodness and fall back into sin, there is no forgiveness," "god never asks you to do anything you aren't capable of doing," "if you aren't doing his will you must not be a believer," "he died a torturous death on the cross...and you're afraid of a little discomfort," "man is deceitful and desperately wicked," "my righteousness is the equivalent of menstruating rags," not to mention all the references to sexual sin. The church pretty well immobilized me...damned me...nailed my hide to a cross with nine inch ardox nails. My dance with suicide, whenever and wherever the party happens to be, the music is always my failure to measure up, my inability to consistently be that soft, tenderhearted poet, a champion of children, defender of the weak, my self hatred. All this combined with my attachment experience was a load I was never able to carry, and regardless of how convincingly I parade past the graveyard, as ridiculous as those quotes may sound, I have never really been able to forgive myself for my failure to do so. My Mantra helps a little these days, but how many times a day can you go through it without it sinking in that you're a pretty dismal excuse for a human being. (I'm not. But I get tired of telling myself I'm not.) The last person I was likely to pay any attention to was, me. It didn't matter if he was screaming, crying, or frozen in terror in some dark corner. Aw, sometimes I'd throw him a moldy crust or a fuzzy bone. He was embarrassing. He shamed us all. He deserved it. They said he did. Just tell him to shut up and carry his m----- f------ cross. God will provide the energy. The dumb s---! If he had faith the size of a mustard seed, he could move mountains.
Anyway, to survive, I have had to establish a definitive difference between religion and spirituality, "God" and the church. The stars by which I determine my path are Truth, Wisdom, Beauty and Love. On October 19th, I posted a poem that defines my relationship with the Love of my life, "There Is a Love."
You're going to make it. I Love seeing your willingness to disregard religious protocol and make guilty entities accountable for their deeds...
Got to go...
blessings,
enigma
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