Since we had so much fun a couple days ago with parodies of the awful lyrical homage to Jack Hyles, this Friday’s challenge is to slap together some iambic pentameter (or whatever meter makes you happy) and write a poem on this theme: The Managawd’s Lament.
As always, the contest winner will vigorously glad-handed and then promptly forgotten.
Fleas
Adam had ’em
Immediate disqualification for plagiarism. π
When we see a new post and it says “No Comments”, do you really expect us to read the post before we comment?
that never stopped a good preacher from claiming an illustration, phrase or outline as his own.
But a golf clap for actually entering a poem for the first post. π
*Tips cap*
Hello sheeple,
Look at the SBC pastor, now back to me;
Now back to an evangelical, now back to me;
Sadly, he isn’t me, but if he stopped using lady-scented Bible versions and switched to the KJV, he could smell like me.
Look down, back up, where are you?
You’re on a Bible cruise.
With the man your man could smell like.
What’s in your hand?
It’s a tract, with two tickets to a thing called love. Look again, the tickets are now notches in your gospel belt.
Anything is possible when your man smells like IFB.
I’m on a hobby-horse.
Awesomeness. It took me almost to the end to realize what you were parodying. Well met.
Well done!!!
Favorite, favorite, favorite.
This just made my day. Thank you.
<3
Excellent version of the Old Spice commercial. I loved it!
Fantastic. Close the topic!
brilliant!
That was amazing! Kudos for the use of hobby-horse.
“lady scented Bible versions”
lol
to my little brain a while to work out what you were parodying. This is much better than the original
There once was a preacher from Nantucket….
Who told his congregation they could suck it…
Who took a sheep in the thicket to pluck it
But the sheep said in his might
You are just not right
Your standards I hear but I’ll buck it
for some reason I thought this one would end up with a verse about the Mog taking a sheep on a mission trip to phuket
hmmm. I wonder what rhymes with phuket?
π―
Said the Pastor “I’ve given up hope!”
The World’s on a mad slippery slope!
A farce has been made
of my brilliant crusade –
oops, hit the send button beffore I finished
Said the Pastor βIβve given up hope!β
The Worldβs on a mad slippery slope!
A farce has been made
of my brilliant crusade –
I’ve been nominated as POPE !”
there once was a Michigan preacher
and Bible college teacher
he got real offended
when I was upended
now I’m a much happier creature
wow, 5 years in 5 lines. Catharsis! π
There once was an IFB preacher
Whose style was that of a screecher
An IT guy by day
so when asked he would say
That ‘Its not a bug but a feature!’
Ok, not exactly The Managawd’s Lament but I’m warming up my creative mind π
Heard a guy like that preach near Chattanooga, TN.
So turned off by the yelling
That we didn’t buy what he was selling
Our ears were ringing
From the terrible singing
At the end we left
Wondering why he wanted
to candidate at a church
In another state
And if his crazy yell
could be heard in hell!
that little man I once called pastor
(and he thought that really meant Master)
used words for a smoke screen
(and way to much caffeine)
his middle name must be disaster
“My” people, they just aren’t grateful
one really could get just ’bout hateful
there’s work to be done
pats on backs to be won
Sunday sermon be better berateful
So many mistakes
I have heard in this sermon
Is your name George, sir?
(With apologies to Justin Timberlake)
I’m bringin’ Jesus back.
Them other preachers don’t know how to act.
Think you’re a Christian now is that a fact?
I won’t stop preaching till the altar’s packed.
Get ’em on the bus!
Dirty babe
You see this altar baby come get saved
I’ll put you on my staff if you behave
Don’t tell your husband that I feel this way.
Sing another chorus!
Come get saved
Managawd done preached on it
Come to the front
Managawd done preached on it
KJV
Managawd done preached on it
No TV
Managawd done preached on it
Gonna teach you the tithing myth
Managawd done preached on it
Cover yo’ hips
Managawd done preached on it
1950s style
Managawd done preached on it
Trust me with your child
Managawd done preached on it
Jack Hyles was da bomb
Managawd done preached on it
Never said he was wrong
Managawd done preached on it
Come for counseling alone
Managawd done preached on it
And get your sexy on!
LMAO!! Next time this song comes on the radio, pretty sure THESE lyrics are gonna pop into my head…. π
Wow.
Well done!
Awesome!
Meaningless gesture
Doctors R. B. And Randy.
What dissertation?
beating up people with the Bible
Is this Haiku?
Technic’ly, it is
At least my feeble attempt.
Irony is tough.
There once was a church with a steeple,
With a man-a-gawd berating his sheeple,
With joy, he would say,
Off’rings and tithes you must pay,
or you’ll never be worthwhile people!
yup! π
I’m the pastor’s wife, therefore I’m right
my husband gives me all the light
that ever I’ll need
don’t care if you bleed
thinking is NOT my delight
wow, limericks….I can’t stop!
Where have they gone, my faithful throng?
I’ve done MY duty so pure.
Preached the “whole counsel”(and so much the more)
Reprobate they’ve turned-of this I am sure.
I put out the spiritual buffet
but it’s their job to eat the food.
Feed the flock, what a load of crock!
I’m more interested in literal food.
I cry pulpit tears, throughout several years,
As I watch sheeple come and go.
But no fruit or growth-the problem can’t be me?,
I show up each week-that’s enough,don’t you see.
They’ll honor me soon with a higher degree
for simply showing up and being me.
No concern for those who left, or remain hurting in my midst,
We’re storming hell’s gates and we’re ’bout near the fence!
Let’s continue to “fight”, No one’s slowin’ us down!
What do you mean, I’m the cause of your guilt and your frown!?
Give more, do more, it’s the secret to joy…
I’ll weep no more tears for the folks I employ.
The comments on this one are a total win.
O’ Jack, where art thou, we miss you o’ so much!
Your booming voice, your resonant tone, your wonderful golden touch.
Our lives have been unfulfilled since you passed on a decade ago.
That time of joy, that time of wonder, when our hearts were all aglow.
You rarely opened the Bible to preach, but that was ok with me,
Your stories and illustrations were all we needed to work us into a frenzy.
O’ Jack, o’ Jack where art thou?
We stood and applauded when you entered a room to speak,
In contrast to those sissy preachers who were only humble, gentle, and meek.
They called you an adulterer because of the secret office door,
But never once did we believe it, there was nothing you needed to answer for!
Some called your soul-winning stories perhaps a little bit far-fetched.
But as long as you were exalted, o’ Jack, the truth could certainly be stretched.
O’ Jack, o’ Jack where art thou?
Thousands sought to mimic you, copying every one of your styles,
But none could reach the level of my beloved, the preacher Jack Hyles.
They’re leaving us in droves now dear Jack, yet why I need to determine.
But one wayward brother said he just wants a simple expository sermon.
I pilgrimage to Hammond every year, even if the temperature is sub-zero,
To weep and wail at the statue of you, Jack Hyles my champion, my hero.
O’ Jack, o’ Jack where art thou?
This could’ve been written by my former pastor. I ought to copy it down and send it to him anonymously. He’d probably have a plaque made out of it to hang above the pulpit. π―
a tinkling brass
cymbals shaking the air
without any value
+1
(apologies for my lack of ability in poetry)
My sheeple will not hear my voice,
They act as if they have no choice.
They constantly obey their flesh,
With Scripture their thoughts will not mesh.
They do not realize I’m the man,
That keeps their soul from being damned.
And out my office they take doors,
So I can not go visit whores.
It seems my logic they don’t like,
Those fallacies spew out my mike.
I read one verse, and then I speak,
On why I am humble and meek.
My sheeple do not ever hear,
They just go home and then drink beer.
Oh what sin pervades their hearts,
They won’t boycott stores like K-Mart.
Accountable they say I’d be,
If in my office they could see.
My computer they won’t know,
Or my job would have to go.
They should do more witnessing,
To fill our storehouses with bling.
The man-o-gid truly knows all,
What’s that? Pride goes before a fal
l
l
l
l
l
β
The man-o-gawd berates his flock
His faithful twenty-four.
You’d better guard your heart and soul
When you walk out that door.
It’s scary out there
Dangerous. EVERYONE is bad.
They don’t believe like WE believe.
(Now I’ll pretend a sad.)
Separate yourselves from them.
Forget the sheep to feed.
My voice is the only one
That you should ever heed.
(Forget that isolation
Should send up a red flag.
If I scare you bad enough
I’ve got you in my bag.)
Trust me, God does not have plans.
For your family
Than to dedicate yourselves
To ME and ME and ME.
Love! π
Here is the church
And here’s the steeple
Open the doors and fleece all the people.
priceless – pun intended
funny
Just saw this after I posted mine
that’s why they are known as “sheeple”
From Jeremiah 23:
Woe be unto the pastors that destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! saith the Lord.
For both prophet and priest are profane; yea, in my house have I found their wickedness, saith the Lord.
I have seen also in the prophets of Jerusalem an horrible thing: they commit adultery, and walk in lies
Thus saith the Lord of hosts, Hearken not unto the words of the prophets that prophesy unto you: they make you vain: they speak a vision of their own heart, and not out of the mouth of the Lord.
I have not sent these prophets, yet they ran: I have not spoken to them, yet they prophesied.
I have heard what the prophets said, that prophesy lies in my name, saying, I have dreamed, I have dreamed.
How long shall this be in the heart of the prophets that prophesy lies? yea, they are prophets of the deceit of their own heart
Is not my word like as a fire? saith the Lord; and like a hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces?
Therefore, behold, I am against the prophets, saith the Lord, that steal my words every one from his neighbour.
Behold, I am against the prophets, saith the Lord, that use their tongues, and say, He saith.
Behold, I am against them that prophesy false dreams, saith the Lord, and do tell them, and cause my people to err by their lies, and by their lightness; yet I sent them not, nor commanded them: therefore they shall not profit this people at all, saith the Lord.
ye have perverted the words of the living God, of the Lord of hosts our God.
King James Version (KJV)
sorry, that got quite long
Wow. Very apropos.
My wife and I were listening to this on CD one night about 2 years before leaving fundyland. We could not believe this was in the Bible. I jumped out of bed to replay it. This passage heavily influenced us to leave fundyland. Check it out in other translations.
Your family members are evil
(our standards are pretty medieval)
you must separate
to walk narrow and strait
ignore their pain and upheaval!
To his “throne” ascending,
Judgement harsh extending.
Manner condescending.
Sermons never-ending.
Bible verses rending.
Attitude unbending.
Seems to like offending.
Piety pretending.
Pedophiles defending.
Building-program spending,
To the poor not lending.
Quarrels rarely mending.
He prefers unfriending.
For the faith contending
His sermon tapes he’s vending
While sheeple keep attending.
Well done! π
I like that a lot!
Dang…..that’s good.
The pastor drones on
An buzzing angry insect
I contemplate floor
“A buzzing insect”, not “an”, and this wasn’t supposed to be a reply to pastor’s wife either.
My only excuse is I haven’t had any tea yet this morning.
Best one so far. Excellent!
Impressive.
Thumbs up!
@PW very nice!! And sadly true. π
Wow! The picture gave me chills. π
I remember thumbing through a copy of this when I younger and thinking, even then, “These poems aren’t that good.”
Thanks for the blast from the past.
You people here are BRILLIANT!! I wish SO HARD I had any talent in this area. I don’t. But I have enjoyed every single one of yours. When Darrell puts up a challenge that involves drawing a picture of baking a cake, I will rock your world right back!
GEORGE! Drawing a picture OR baking a cake! Just for that, you get no cake.
Eh, drawing a picture of baking a cake should work!
hot wind is blowing
saplings bend under its strength
everything withers
This is a haiku but
the syllables are kind of off
much like John R. Rice’s poetry
This is too funny!
I do love love love this, btw. I may be laughing about this one in 2013 and beyond.
I am like a celebrity
People come to hear what I have to say
It is hard to be humble
When you are as great as I
I must dress the part and look the part
No matter what the cost
People will Judge God by what they see in me
So I need a new suit
I am not concerned with my staff
God will provide for them
If He does not
It is their own fault
My motto is simple, this is how it should be
Not what can I do for the Lord
But what can YOU do for ME?
(Now, if I had any talent in the area of poetry, this would all be rhyming and junk)
Wow! This sums up fundamentalism quite nicely, I must say.
David Hyles smiles
at his secretary.
This thing called adultery
must be hereditary.
the Lord’s way is oh so mysterious –
either that, or I am delirious.
staff is constantly leaving,
God’s will they’re perceiving!!
they’re earnest and ever so serious.
They can’t wait to get out of here,
and over the hill disappear,
I know it’s not me
they just cannot see
that I am the great puppeteer.
Bloviating man
Taking everyone to task
Big fish in small pond
That other Jean, how do you know my former pastor? You described him so perfectly! He was indeed a big fish, he weighed about 300 lbs, and the church was small. No wonder we felt so stifled in there! π³
A parody:
Here is THE church
Where are the sheeple?
They’ve found new life
As SFL-people!
Thumbs up!
Very nice. Maybe they could be labeled before and after.
Yaaaayyyyy!
Random musings by an anti-poet.
Sunday morning:
Glory! Glory! Hear my story.
What belongs to God, belongs to me.
Sacrifice and you will see.
I do right. You do wrong.
Let us stand and close with song.
Late Sunday nite:
Did I not do what God called me to do?
My praise baa’d by the sheep?
My doubts and fears surpressed. I need rest.
Apologies to Glenn Frey
The pastor talks on, talks so loud
Tries to get inside your head, and is oh so proud!
And gives so many rules! So you look good outside
And the pressure’s high to keep feeding the mog’s pride!
‘Cause the pastor talks on.
Oh-wo-ho, oh-wo-ho,
Caught up in the action, he’s preaching in our ears
Oh-wo-ho, oh-wo-h
Tell me can you see him
Tell me can you feel him
Tell me can you smell him
For the mog rambles (boom, boom, boom) on! π
Like the hover over text, BTW.
There once was a man in the pulpit
Who sinned as though he couldn’t help it.
He led us astray,
That old popinjay,
Spinning yarns just as fast as we’d gulp it.
He often would tell us new rules
That came not from Bible, but schools
Which took all our money.
They thought it was funny
To peddle their piffle to fools.
These schools were a needful invention
For churches which had a pretention
To be quite like God.
But isn’t it odd
That many are facing declension?
So, brethren and cistern, we ought to
Be thankful to God that we got to
Be rid of those places.
Let’s all turn our faces
And cheer like we just won the Lotto.
I sat in the pew,
then the preaching started,
I shouted “Hey-Men!”
and nearly …. π³
ROTFL!
Best comment yet!
The Pope is quite wrong!
My KJV Bible says
I’m infallible!
May I try another one:
Why the KJV?
‘Cause you need me to translate
Elizabethian.
One more and I’ll stop:
WHAT? NO! Judith and
Maccabees were in the first
KJV Bible?
I’m not a poet but most of these are pretty funny
Scofields are red
Double breasted suits are blue
IFB’s aren’t proud
they just think they are better than you
Short and … well, not sweet but very on point.
!! Y’all! These are so great! My favorite SFL post of all time!
Managawd’s Lament
My tie’s choking me.
It hangs from my neck
Like Rahab’s red fraying cord.
My shoes are too tight.
My aching feet crammed into these
Stupid shined soles.
I’m supposed to be winning the lost,
Working for Jesus,
Building up treasure in heaven.
But my heart’s not in it:
I don’t want any of these
Godless heathens
Spending eternity with me.
Yo, KJV, let’s stick with it!
Schaap!
Collaborate and listen
preacher boy
unholy ambition
To the extreme I rock a wing tip like a vandal
Light-up a pulpit and wax a chump like a candle
Love it or leave it, you better gang way
You better hit bull’s Gipp, the Phil Kidd don’t play
If there was a problem, yo, I’ll ignore it
Check out the book while my Deacon votes on it
John R.
Rice, Rice, baby
White rice, rice, baby
I dub thee Doctor Theo, an honorary title (but feel free to use it whenever) for stone cold bringing it to the extreme.
I’ll delurk long enough to contribute to this.
Each to his place, now this I’ve found
The antidote to sin
Get them in the door, once more look round
For another soul to win
These people on my holy hill
They will not be truly free
Til they submit their sinful will
To the one true KJV
So many dangers, toils and snares
Even Christians cannot see
Forget discernment, forget prayers
You’d be damned if not for me
These wretches fear not God above
Nor His man on earth below
They need my care and tender love
To set their hearts aglow
I am God’s chosen man on earth
I deserve your every breath
From the moment of your birth until
The instant of your death
Now we’ve been here two thousand years
‘Cause Christ was one of us
Ignore the sound of secret tears
Get on the Baptist Bus!
Each to his place, now this I’ve found
The antidote to sin
Get them in the door, once more look round
For another soul to win
If thrice-weekly you’re subjected
To a host of red-complected
MOGs whose words are ne’er dissected…
Fundy-Slave!
If you think you’re more astute,
Bearing bigger, better fruit
‘Cause you always wear a suit
Fundy-Slave!
If there’s never been a trimmin’
On the heads of all your wimmin
‘Cause the hell-fire would be brimmin’…
Fundy-Slave!
If your preacher goes on rants
O’er the sin of wimmin’s pants
And a host of female “shant’s”…
Fundy-Slave!
(My apologies to a nostalgic road-side campaign)
Burma Shave for the win! Good job!
There once was a pastor named Mark
Who pastored the youth like a shark
He set up his prey; and when caught slipped away
He feels safe cause no one will narc
πΏ
The MOG’s Lament..
(really bad poetry alert, just turn away, I won’t be offended)
Why do all those people want such warm and fuzzy churches?
I like mine cold and scared and guilty.
I don’t care about your souls,
I just want fame and the lucre that’s filthy.
Happy, smiling teachers,
they’re not mogs they’re just sissys!
All their wimmin in positions in the church
that just burns me till it hurts.
You want your music like the heathens
that is why you say you’re leaving
Go ahead the fire’s are stokedβ¦
Yes my wife is oh so boring
but that’s okay cuz when she’s snoring
I’ll be on the net doing research
for the next thing I will preach “hard” on… π π
Wear a Skirt! Wear a Skirt!
Dress like Pastor’s first lady?
Wear a skirt! Wear a skirt!
Perfect femininity!
Wear a skirt! Wear a skirt!
Always camera ready!
Wear a skirt! Wear a skirt!
Don’t look like a painted lady!
Wear a skirt! Wear a skirt!
Want your marriage rock steady?
Wear a skirt! Wear a skirt!
Want to keep your man happy?
Wear a skirt! Wear a skirt!
Don’t draw unwanted attention
Wear a sk…..oh, never mind.
In the middle years of the last century,
From the midwestern region of our coun-try
Came a roar and a thunder men had never heard,
Like the scream and the sound of a big toy bird
Up in the pulpit, playing the soulwinning game
Baron von Jack Hyles was his name
Eighty Dogs tried interrupting the magic prayer words;
Now they’re sermon illustrations boarding on the absurd!
Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty or more
Jack the Soulwinning Ace was a rollin up a score
Eighty dogs died trying to end that streek’
But the Baron choked them down without a peep.
*with sincere apologies to the Royal Guardsmen
for mutilating their song.
π π π π
With apologies to the Black-Eyed Peas…
Preachericious
four
tres
two
uno
Listen up ya’ll, ’cause this is it
The man I’m Amening is preachericious!
Preachericious definition: make them like their serfdom
I want their treasure so I can build my kingdom
It ain’t easy, kind of sleazy
I got reasons why I fleece ’em
Sheeple come and go like seasons
Preachericious (Preachericious)
I might be promiscuous
But if you was suspicious
I’ll tell you it’s ficticious
I’ll blow smoke
Tell my deacons double-talk
I’ll kick you out and to my flock I will mock ya
four
tres
two
uno
Chorus:
They’re so suspicious (but I won’t get caught!)
So pernicious (I put the deacons on rock, rock)
So ambitious (Those preacher boys want what I got)
Preachericious (What a scam!)
Preachericious def
Preachericious def
Preachericious def
Preachericious definition: Make those member crazy
They always claim they know me
I really think they’re lazy
They B to the E, L,IE, V and E
And can’t no other pastor lay the guilt like me
I’m Preachericious (so malicious)
And known to be vicious
I’m knocking on doors just to see who’s injudicious
He’s my witness (oh deacon!)
I’ll put this boy on rock, rock
And he be walking down the block just to watch what I got
Four
tres
two
uno
Chorus:
They’re so suspicious (but I won’t get caught!)
So pernicious (I put the deacons on rock, rock)
So ambitious (Those preacher boys want what I got)
Preachericious (What a scam!)