My father was Catholic, my mother was Protestant, and because of that I got Christened in both churches, so I've got all these names... but my Dad always called me Mick.
quote by Mickey Spillane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
We do hereby command the Leaders of the Hebrew, Catholic and Protestant Churches to sanctify and have us crowned Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico.
quote by Joshua A. Norton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was raised Catholic, but my father's people were Methodist, so we went to both churches.
quote by Aaron Neville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Temple
Delivered straight from the temple
Hip hop ya don't stop
One o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock, rock!
Well as an infant I was born into religion,
My mother called me Baptist
But what she forgot to mention
Was what Baptist meant.
The story goes God sent his only begotten son
To make sure that I would have one.
As I learned in Sunday school,
He's ........ to disrespect my mother and father would be taboo.
But as I grew I met a Jew, a Catholic and a Protestant
And couldn't figure out where Baptist fit.
Hastily got crazy that ya made me see
Brother has confronted me with such ambiguity.
Are you Jehovah, Buddha, or shall I call you Allah?
All the words for Heavenly Father.
I just like to be a scholar on the subject called theology,
So that's how mi figure,
While they call themselves Christians, used'a call me nigga.
And ...... black hole leaves no control over thought.
I leave my body to see where the pits
Go high when the physical takes control.
No communications with the inner self
The prize is the otherwise wise, who has spiritual health.
Got to explain, they had the problems visions of gettin' along with herself,
Cheap on the corner, cornered herself and becomes a mourner.
Logic, brothers -
Ah, yo sista, can Prazwel and Wyclef get some - check it out.
Delivered straight from the temple,
Hip hop ya don't stop
One o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock, rock!
Delivered straight from the temple,
I had no time to sample,
My cousin's name was Samuel,
I wasn't allowed to use the turntables,
My dad was a preacher so rap music was your devilism,
And if the words'd say
song performed by by Fugees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Irish Christening
We christened Megan
Catholic today
just as we had,
years ago, Sean and Nora.
Afterward my wife and I,
with relatives and friends,
talked and joked as Megan slept
through drinks and barbecue
Father fixed behind the phlox
in Mother's garden.
That was Sunday.
Now, on Monday,
Sue and I begin
another week of work
and all the years
we'll have to wait
before we'll know
if Megan swings
the razor of good reason.
We need to know
because of Sean and Nora.
They slew us
at the age of treason.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Yes, I'm Catholic; I'm proud of it. But I had lots of Protestant friends.
quote by Liam Neeson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hard Core Heart
Hard rock and drugs
Running thru my veins
Mother fucking bitchy whore
Been called by many names
Moshing thru the nights
Sleeping thru the day
Drinking in the bathrooms
Pretending I’m ok
Breathing in the smoke
Laughing at the pain
Giving up all hope
Taking all the blame
Hard rock and drugs
Running thru my veins
Mother fucking bitchy whore
Been called by many names
Hidden by my smiles
A part of me resides
Getting smaller by the day
The rest of my heart dies
Hard rock and drugs
Running thru my veins
Mother fucking bitchy whore
Been called by many names
Smoking pot in my room
Know I won’t get caught
Mom and dad are drunk again
Forgetting what the taught
Hard rock and drugs
Running thru my veins
Mother fucking bitchy whore
Been called by many names
poem by Hannah Anderson
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As you know, I am neither Roman Catholic, Protestant Episcopalian, nor Presbyterian, nor am I an Irishman.
quote by John Bright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where woman lacks importance
Delivered and moulded by my mother,
I was identified with my father,
Who, delivered and moulded by mother,
Was identified with his father.
I go with my son; wife is an onlooker.
The son of my daughter I've no claim on.
In each generation, mother is removed
From the memory line of the family.
Let my name carry the name of mother
And of father behind it to the world.
Let me have the names of the grand mothers
And grandfathers on both sides in record.
14.10.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Now a Protestant confronting a Catholic ghost is exactly Shakespeare's way of grappling with what was not simply a general social problem but one lived out in his own life.
quote by Stephen Greenblatt
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We're not thought of in terms of color because we are entertainers. We are there to entertain you not because we are black, white, pink, or green or gay or straight or because we are Catholic or Protestant.
quote by Eartha Kitt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Parents
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
I looking for you
to talk about my heart
which still ill
untill i will see you
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
You are the third one
In my small heart
After ALLAH and
And my prophet MOHAMED
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH is ordering us
Not to make them angry
Never to tell them
the smallest word ouufff
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH loves who
Makes his parents happy
And forgives those
Who have a lot of mistakes
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
Oh ALLAH enter me
To the higher Firdaous
With my parents and
every single MUSLIM
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
poem by Abderaouf Laoud
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He Called Father
He remembered that fear,
Shaking in bed listening.
He called son.
Hearing the druken man,
He called father.
The womans cries, the punches,
Slaps, blackend eyes,
On she called mother.
Burying his head in the pillow
To shut out the noise.
He remembers the comfort
The gentle hand and soft voice
Of she called sister.
But the scars lie deep
A nightmare that he runs from
In the black despair of night.
From He Called Father
poem by Paul Brookes
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On His Father's Side
On his mother’s side
Born in Bethlehem
On his Father’s side
No one before him
On his mother’s side
Growing and learning
On his Father’s side
All knowledge showing
On his mother’s side
Stuck in one location
On his Father’s side
Present in every nation
On his mother’s side
He was hungry
On his Father’s side
The multitudes he did feed
On his mother’s side
At Calvary he died
On his Father’s side
He was the essence of life
On his mother’s side
Buried like other men
On his Father’s side
He rose again
On his mother’s side
Human and weak
On his Father’s side
The God of eternity.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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I hope that by going to visit the pope I have enabled everybody to see that the words Catholic and Protestant, as ordinarily used, are completely out of date. They are almost always used now purely for propaganda purposes. That is why so much trouble is caused by them.
quote by Geoffrey Fisher
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Male parental hierarchy.
My parents are two, grandparents four
And great grandparents, eight and so on.
I am known by my father, his father,
And his father and so on by male side.
My mother, her mother and father, their
Mother and father and so on are ignored.
My fathers’ mother and grandfather’s
Mother and so on go to oblivion.
I am known by my father, his father
And his father and so on as a family.
All women from whom I have drawn
Their genes have been shut out.
Parental hierarchy is represented
By male, women dislodged at every stage.
25.08.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The man called My Father
My sister pointed a man on the road calling him our father
She had a faint smile hoping he would turn and smile back
I saw him walking away in a busy market wearing a suit
Perhaps a man on business while we stood like a failed investments
I asked my mother about the man called My father
She weakly smiled and kissed my chubby childhood cheeks
Years went by and that man often crossed my way, often smiled too
And i smiled back to the stranger who everyone called my father
We met once a while at his place greeting his new family
A mandatory yearly visits like paying homage to gods for life living
The man called my father looking at me with his guilty eyes
And i smiling at the stranger to the man who called himself my father
poem by Dechen Doma Sherpa
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The poet some called him Eccentric
Hey! You asked my Religion very frequently
My Father is a Buddhist and Mother
A Baptized Protestant.
In my certificate of birth they registered me as a Buddhist.
But my religion is Humanism!
I am sure you all laugh and tell;
'There's no Religion by such a name in the World.'
Sorry, this may bitter for you,
When Adam eats the forbidden fruit
Eve's shy and covered her secret place with a Maple leaf?
And the invisible Gardener kept quiet.
That's called Humanism the oldest Religion!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Religion of a Child
It is religion that you speak your life for,
With a voice of angels, with certain talk.
Your mother is very great at living with God,
And she is becoming thin, unhappy, and glum.
The search is for a time, the search is mine,
For the God who loves my mother,
And I speak almost continuously over the doctrines.
His attributes are his names and knowledge,
My wisdom is my mother’s,
So I pray like my mother like my father,
And feel hope for the religion to speak to me
About why you die in a job called life
After earning the sunset and sunrise.
I can not cooperate further,
For my childhood is small and it is gone.
Pilgrims do speak like my soul,
And the pilgrimage is not with my parents now.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The family tree
I am known by my father
Though equally owned by mother.
I trace from my father’s father,
And not from father’s mother
Nor my mother’s mother or father.
Has family tree any sense?
19.08.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Thoughts On World Poetry
To coin a metaphor:
It's like a Protestant
wandering into a Catholic church
and hearing someone just out of the confessional
muttering 32 Hail Mary's as instructed
huddled in the nearest pew,
and thinking
hey once is enough...
for some, a ceaseless act of worship;
for some, a wake-up call;
the intention
could be the same
poem by Michael Shepherd
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