Some Humanist Poetry to Celebrate Tonight's Book Launch
Filling the Void: A Selection of Humanist and Atheist Poetry is a rare but thoroughly absorbing collection of thought-provoking poetry that I released a few months back. Rather belatedly, I am holding an evening of poetry and songs at a small local book shop. To remind people of this fabulous book (I got shivers down my spine re-reading some of these yesterday in selecting the poems to read), I thought I would share some with you here. As ever, please grab yourself a copy... pretty please? Over to the poems:
The God Machine There dwells, deep within our minds, a thought that, in many ways, we share with our ancestors, way back in caveman days. Our lives were short and brutal then, as we struggled to survive: we grasped at anything that might just help us stay alive. Our elders wove fables of supernatural beings, who directed our fragile lives, all-knowing and all-seeing. We took all of our wise men, prophets and visionaries, and lifted them to godhood, with the zeal of missionaries. Gautama was the first to go, with his gentle ways and thought: his acolytes worshipped the man, not the wisdom he had brought. Sweet Jesus, with his love for all, and message of personal peace, was elevated to the godhead by greedy Nicaea’s priests. Muhammad, the great unifier, and social engineer, was glorified by united tribes, who listened but did not hear. Thus it goes, on and on, passed down through the ages: we disregard the message, but deify the sages. We possess a mighty intellect but are condemned to perdition, by disdaining common sense, and embracing superstition. James D. Fanning Crucifix If you turned me on my side, I’m a gun without a trigger. If you held me upside down, I’m a signpost hammered into the ground. If you lay me face down, I’m an airport runway. Face up, I’ve already turned away from the heavens. I’m whatever you want to see of me. I’m an object of no meaning until you pray. Nobody knows what Jesus looked like. Yet he’s bestowed with a beard, a crown of thorns, and blunt nails pounded into his palms. I’m two parts wood to one part metal poured into a mold in a sweatshop. I wasn’t handmade out of love or piety. Jesus left the factory a long time ago. Raymond Luczak
On heaven:
Heaven Do you think you can buy your way into heaven eat drink not eat not drink dress up dress down pray meditate masturbate celibate celebrate dance murder make rules break rules build churches destroy churches quote misquote lie seek absolution flagellate torture congregate separate or none of the above? If such a place existed and you could and you would and you did do you really think it would be worth it? Ted Markstein
Here are some on prayer:
My Prayer Oh God, the next time You attempt suicide Please don’t settle for just Pretending you died
Mitchell Cole Bender
This one is a take on the famous children's prayer:
Oh My God Oh my God, I’ve come to say Thank you for your love today Thank you for my family And the cancer you gave Auntie Eve Thank you for the little worm Who burrows into eyes to give blind prison terms Thank you for tectonic plates Which make death and destruction a common fate Thank you for the failing harvests That bring about death through painful starving Thank you for the carnivorous food chain Which results in slow death after flesh-ripping pain Thank you for HIV/AIDS, smallpox and malaria Ebola, the plague, cholera; heck, which is the scarier? Guard me in the dark of night Which is every day for that girl with no sight And in the morning, send your light The burning gas-ball which will one day end our lives Amen Jonathan MS Pearce On agnosticism: I bent my knee to beauty (Agnostic prayer) I bent my knee to beauty and wished for all to see, it’s not in modern fashion you’ll find the missing key. I bent my head in prayer and uttered out my plea: —“God, make all mankind certain that goodness stem from thee.” I knelt in benediction and swore a sacred oath to protect the children from apathy and sloth. Though life is fey and wondrous all men will die alone. Our beauty lies in living, at peace with the unknown. Anders Samuelsson And from a fellow Patheos writer: The Awful Shame I must expel the awful shame That lies within this heart of mine And curse the source from which it came. This edict holds a weighty claim, But of my guilt I see no sign; I must expel the awful shame. This sentence bleak that would defame I have no choice but to decline And curse the source from which it came. I will not let this tar my name Nor suffer any fate malign; I must expel the awful shame. I will my worth and place reclaim And to the trash this charge assign And curse the source from which it came. You cannot make me take the blame; It’s at this point I draw the line; I must expel the awful shame And curse the source from which it came. Galen Broaddus