Archive for the ‘religion’ Category

Before I could speak, the decision was made
That I would be trained to believe in god.
Their god.
A god whose bestseller book justified slavery, incest, male dominance and mutilation.
The god described as “love”, “savior”, “king”, “father”
“All-knowing”, “all-loving” while all are told he is to be feared.
I was raised to believe that a single lifetime of wrongdoing
Was righteously met with an eternity of torture.
But their god is “loving.”
I was recruited to a cause only days after my birth without my consent.
I was not given a choice.
It was washed away with holy water.



Posted: April 12, 2015 in art, atheism, poetry, religion, writing

Don’t say you’ll pray for me.
Do you know how repulsive the act
Of you talking to your god on my behalf is?
I. Don’t. Believe.
And There is no comeback
Nearly insulting enough
Under the guise of thoughtfulness
That I could spit back at you.

A for Abnormal
A for Amoral
A for Assertive
A for Atheist.

Arkansas State Constitution Article 19, Section 1
(Section one, because this was of the utmost importance):
“No person who denies the being of a God shall hold any office in the civil departments of this state, nor be competent to testify as a witness in any court.”

I can’t hold office
And I’m not “competent” to testify
Because I am unconvinced
By books and preachers.
Stripped of my rights
Because I do not believe in a god.

I think religion is a bad word
If it is something you are forcing;
Pushing, peddling like a drug.
It is fine to have, and fine to believe in,
Maybe you have a prescription,
Maybe it benefits you, and that is fine.

And I have been a sheep in the fold,
Long ago,
But I traded my wool, three bags full
And now stand, sheared, apart,
No faith in my heart.
And nobody knows what to say to me
As if I am no longer myself
No respect for the grave matter of my change,
You think I lost my grey matter when I rearranged
My lifestyle to no longer include your god.
You point out all these positive things about your beliefs;
Make it sound like a country club.
You list all these perks
And it irks me to hear you try to sell your religion like a salesman,
Like a telemarketer with a “special offer”,
As if it is as easy as 1-2-3.
Just sign on the dotted line.

Trying to save me from Hell,
You tell me all these benefits could be mine,
Why do I decline your offers to go to church,
To sit in the pews,
Why do I refuse to try?

And it pains me to see
You reduce your faith to
Something that can be sold
Like a vacuum cleaner,
Door to door, nothing more than a ware
To trade for one’s current state.
All of these selling points, though, I know them.
Have you forgotten I was like you?
Do you think that I’m
Simply too brainwashed or stupid to remember?
Do you honestly think that I would have left the fold,
Naked and cold,
Simply because a little doubt took hold?
No, it is insulting that you would consider my loss,
The death of my faith
To be something without any weight.