![]() SlaveryA Poem by Kenneth The Poet
Why is it so?
Why do men and women of the Christian ilk act so self-flagellating, so I'm not worthy when they praise the god that loves them? It's back-a*s-wards bizarre in my not-so humble opinion. They are so Wayne, so Garth to the goddamn extreme. And they do it to the music of Yentl almost, this sad, pathetic fiddle echoes in the background even though they should be happier than a pig in s**t. This must be due to the slave mentality that the irreligious one talk about, the mental slavery that they broke away from. I guess the Christian guilt trip Ponzi schemata only works if Jesus so meek, Jesus so mild, is presented with the Howitzer of Hell from just behind the veil. Either way its sliced, its diced, there is only nihilism in the sacrifice that is Jesus Christ. And my rejecting him is murdering him, hanging him on that addition sign even though he died after three hours of non-hellish torture and three days of seeming death, even though he could just Satan and sin with just a whiff of his wretched halitosis. But maybe I'm the one that's self-flagellating, that's self-mutilating, that's self-martyring by listening to hours upon hours of Baptist-oriented radio programming. Yet, the gods of history tend to be the ideals of humankind's most extreme personality types, and those types tend to give out dire convictions to those who won't tow the line. And we fall for it because we are the lambs of god, the lambs in the waiting line for the heavenly slaughterhouse. And the ones that champion human existence, the ones that bring us the fire of survival and the light of knowledge, wind up being chained forever to a mountain as eagles feast on their livers. No wonder I shiver at the prospect of divine punishment, real or not. And yet, I'm not afraid because what comes will come. And the zealots can keep sucking god's pud forever and ever, Amen! © 2011 Kenneth The PoetReviews
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Added on July 11, 2011Last Updated on July 11, 2011 Author![]() Kenneth The PoetBismarck, NDAboutKenneth The Poet is an optimist wrapped in the candy shell of moroseness and cynicism. He lives between the two parallels marked 46 and 49, all while living in the state marked 39. He pretends that he.. more..Writing
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