We had some fantastic entries the other day in response to Jack Schaap’s awful doggerel that both were entertaining and informative. Today’s challenge is to compose a bit of verse about any fundamentalist topic you choose. Lay out a limerick, hustle up a haiku, furnish us with free verse.
The poem judged to be best will be awarded with bragging rights and an honorary doctorate in Pulpit Poetry from Old Paths U.
while we are talking about terrible poetry you may want to check this one out–lots of laughs!
http://www.baptist-city.com/poems/jack_hyles_chair.htm
The Stacey Adams poem was in response to this
I just threw up a little in my mouth. Please don’t ever again direct me to such verbal defecation.
What fundystan said! Sheeeesh, that went on forever, these people don’t know when to shut up. š
That, my friend, is crap on an epic scale! šÆ š
I’m dumbfounded. šÆ ā
Question: Does FBC Hammond leave an empty chair on the dais in honor of Emperor Jack? I was just wondering, since they worship him so much it would only seem right that they keep a visual reminder of their god before the people.
“Look as Dr. Hyles Chair”
“Now, look at me”
“Look at Dr. Hyles Chair”
“and Now look at me”
“Dr Hyles has gone to his reward, long live his blessed memory”
**congregation replys**“Long live his blessed memory, h-e-y-men”
“I now stand before you as one Calledā¢ to be the voice of god unto you, and the people said….”
……and the people SAID….
B-U-L-L GIPP!
Jesus does not love me.
This my pastor told me so.
He says that I must earn it.
To soulwinning I must go.
If there were a God, would He not tell
Of some magic prayer, to get out of hell?
And hell is for sinners, of whom you are chief
Along with the pagans, and witches and thieves
But other than skin tone, I simply canāt tell
Whoās bound for heaven and whoās bound for hell
I need a standard! (Besides love one another)
To separate friend from Hegelian Other
I tried to get Tom to wear bowler and nicks,
Heās stronger than I, and gave me a kick
I suppose I can only burden the weak
Children and women, who must remain meek
To keep young children from realizing power
Weāll yell at them daily, and spank every hour
And for the women we wish to control
Weāll equate sexuality with losing your soul
If we dress them in bags and imply they are whores
Imagine how cheerfully theyāll do all our chores!
And if they are teens in decent enough shape,
May I suggest statuatory – ?
I now have my righteous ducks all in a row
My holiness shines like a Barnum and Bailey show
The world is my ship; my wifeās the poop deck
My rules like an albatross hang from my neck
I go a-searching cross mountain and sea
Seeking a convert to imitate me
And when I have found him, I teach him well
To be twice as much a child of hell
You get my vote
Bravo!
Aww, thanks, guys! š³
Epic!
One evening I happened to see
A woman exposing a knee.Ā
I had lustful thought,
And in sin I was caught,
But none of the blame is on me.Ā
Of course not. And if you shed enough tears, you can still be the manogawd for us to emulate.
You should be like me.
Angry and spiteful.
Where’s King James?
How I wish I had Salvation,
But, alas, that’s not to be.
No one here can witness to me
From that blessed KJB.
Upon further review, that last line would have been better as:
“No one brought a KJB.”
With apologies to Frost————(and all other real poets.)
Whose church this is I think you know
His name is on the sign as though
Lest some forget that Sunday’s here
Who does put on the ranting show.
My little kids must think it queer
The goings on they see and hear
As he goes tearing with no break
His weekly tirades through the year.
He gives the big black Book a shake
As with voice doth loudly quake
I wonder if a verse he’ll read
As he relays everyone else’ mistake.
He says I need his words to heed
What happens if myself I read?
I might actually see true joy.
I might actually see true joy.
Has anyone written a “Wish They All Could Be Fundamental Girls?” You could always talk about the girls up north at HAC, MBBC, NIU, etc., girls down south at BJ and PCC and the West Coast girls.
I’d try this one, but don’t feel very creative right now.
Off to church
Wearing my dress, carrying my KJB
Wondering why my faith feels like nothing but work.
“Keep government out of our boarding schools” they say
Then they beat the kids
And say the reason why the “world” doesn’t like them
Is because of the offense of the Cross. š
I’m cheating, since the only poetry I ever wrote started with “Here I sit all brokenhearted…” Here is the “Fundamentalist Rag” by Garrison Keillor
Born Again
Born Again
Born Again
Praise the Lord Iām Born Again
Folks, you know I was born again
So let me hear you say Amen
We give thanks before every meal
We donāt neck in an automobile
Hereās the church, hereās the steeple
We donāt want no worldly people
We flee from sin especially lust,
Donāt buy insurance. In God we trust.
We take our burdens to the Lord in prayer
Await the Rapture when weād fly in the air
You folks donāt know what you missed
Not being fundamentalist
On the Lordās Day we donāt mow the lawn
Donāt turn the TV on
We get our thrills from Revelations
Thinking about the Tribulation
We are not Episcopalian
That is entirely alien
We donāt drink liquor or come near it
The body is the temple of the Holy Spirit
Donāt go to movies or to dances
Donāt go to parties, why take chances?
Bad things happen to folks who do
For example just look at you…..
We held off until we could marry
Hoped to be a missionary
Aimed to be a good disciple
We believed in the Scofield Bible
For Lutherans we had no use
They were much too loose
We were S-A-V-E-D
We took the Bible literally
Add up the numbers and you behold
The Earth is 6000 years old
If you believe in evolution, well,
I guess youāll have to go to hell.
Rock of Ages, how great thou art
Grab a hymnal, sing your part
Let us turn toNumber 33
Nearer My God To Thee
Then weāll sing Amazing Grace
You sing tenor, Iāll take the bass
We fled from lust, avoided sin, and also I used to be born again but now Iām Episcopaliant I am still mammalian
I used to be born again but now Iām Episcopalian
We play Bach but weāre not bacchanalian
Here’s one I wrote in 2009. About people at my church. And also myself.
Brood of Vipers
You have never seen a fake quite as fake as me.
Remember that snake that was under the tree?
That show ponyās got nothinā on me.
This liar is a liar quite humble!
Iāve got a tongue that knows that Iām right.
Remember, son, Iām a tribal Levite!
Search me up and down, try as you might.
Youāll never watch me stumble.
I pray in the public that kisses my ring.
Iām the undercutting to all things.
I thank God for being better than the trash that I bring.
If it’s not me, it’s infernal.
I know much more way more than you.
Iām the do as I say, not the say as I do.
And if your standards donāt meet my boundless cue:
My judgment is eternal.
(Looking past the haze, Iām the Harvard kid
With a spoon in my mouth and swords under my ribs.)
Iām in the back on the class, mocking your replies.
I pretend that I see through virgin blue eyes.
Iām the reason that faith withers and dies.
Iāll cut you down before I know your name!
When I spread my lips, itās a world of hurt.
In the middle of it all, Iām thinking ābout her skirt.
Donāt tell me about a line in the dirt!
I can seal up your remains!
I want everything I eat on a silver platter.
I gorge myself on filthy chatter.
If you have an opinion, it doesnāt matter.
Garbage in and garbage out!
If you come against me, youāll gaze a fist.
In a perfect world, you wouldnāt exist.
Iām drinking my wine, youāre drinking my piss.
Hey, thatās what Iām all about!
(Looking past the haze, Iām a no account punk,
Who thinks heās got all the answers, but none of the gut.)
(How did I ever get this far?
Who am I to say these kinds of things?
Why do I receive my joy from everything that I destroy?
Who do I think I am?
Where is the light that I once had?
Why donāt I practice what I preach?
Why donāt I preach what I practice?
And then see what the world will think of me?)
I am the brood of vipers;
I am the white washed tomb.
I know the law for myself,
But I still donāt have You.
I am the Tree of Knowledge;
I am the egoās peak.
I am the tyrantās mouth
And I am the vultureās beak.
I understand the scripture;
I make my sacrifice.
Iāve seen the Holy of Holies,
Iāve been there once or twice.
I sleep in shallow places;
For silver I buy life.
You canāt see it in my face,
Even His soul has got a price.
I saw the Resurrection;
I canāt believe that ācommon truthā.
Iām so sure in my insurrection,
I just dismiss the proof.
I only speak in I statements;
Only myself do I trust.
I say I know my God,
But I donāt feel it much.
I have no concept of love;
Though I say that I am such.
Still I deny the law of Christ;
Iāve always been this out of touch.
I say that Iām above you;
I let you know day to day.
But as Iām cutting through you,
Iām only rotting away!
(God, please save me! Spare my soul!
God have mercy! My head shall roll!
Kyrie elision!
Ego haud credo! Gloria!)
Sorry for going off topic– not feeling particularly mirthful today.
I’ll steer this vessel by a star,
As o’er the perilous sea I roam,
To chart a course that’s sure and true,
And guide the weary traveler home.
By this bright star, steadfast and sure,
That changes not with passing nights,
I’ll find the way across the deep–
Not by a passing vessel’s lights.
And though the winds may howl and cry,
And though the waters swell and roll,
I’m safe within the hand of God–
A mighty harbor for the soul.