Hypocrites in the Church? Yes, and in the lodge and at the home. Don't hunt through the Church for a hypocrite. Go home and look in the mirror. Hypocrites? Yes. See that you make the number one less.
quote by Billy Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sex & The Church
Though the idea of compassion
Is said to be
The union of christ
And his bride, the christian
Its all very puzzling
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
All the great mystic religions
Put strong emphasis, on
Redeame this spiritual qualities
Of sex of sex
Chrstianity
Has been pretty modern
About sex
Of sex of sex of sex of sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
I think there is a union
Between the flesh and the spirit
Its sex and the church
Sex and the church
All religions mother
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lightning Struck Pat Robertson's Church
God sent a lightning warning through the windows
of Pat Robertson's church. It struck
the 10 Commandments carved in stone
on a tablet in the church... and
effaced the 'not' in Thou Shalt Not Kill.
God does not like hypocrites or those
who asterisk His message of universal
nonviolence with exceptions for war,
execution, and animal slaughter.
(based on a vision H had)
poem by O. Anna Niemus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There's hope for hypocrites...
Yes, there’s hope for hypocrites –
hypocrite poets, who write
from the goodness of their hearts
of the good, the true, the beautiful;
out of the chaos of the well-intentioned
and sometime messy life;
hypocrite readers, who turn
to those same poets for reminders of
the good, the true, the beautiful
out of the chaos of the well-intentioned
and sometimes messy life;
(hypocrite editors, dare we add, who,
knowing the good, the true, the beautiful,
turn down our poems, because
it’s been said oft and better, long before…)
the blessing for all hypocrites
is that they know better; and one day…
may match their actions to their words;
words, well-intentioned, sometimes messy,
written from the goodness of their heart;
and in the heart, as given timeless time,
hypocrisy dissolves…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Some hypocrites and seeming mortified men, that held down their heads, were like the little images that they place in the very bowing of the vaults of churches, that look as if they held up the church, but are but puppets.
quote by William Laud
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Have Steeples. Some Don't
What do I think of church?
'Yes! '
Church?
Like in 'church' church?
'Yes! '
Well...
Some have steeples.
Some don't.
Some have people.
Some wont.
Some are religiously political.
And some are politically religious.
My vehicle is my church.
And that's all I care about.
'Oh?
So your 'car' is your church? '
Oh.
No no!
My 'body' is my church.
It is my sanctuary.
Now...
Keep in mind,
I am not devoted to keep it as pure,
As it should be.
But I do the best I can,
Not to be led away by temptation.
But everyday I pray to be forgiven,
Of those 'sins' I know I should not enjoy!
However...
You can find me anytime,
Self righteously defending...
My point of view.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Church
I am sure there are those who go to church,
For purposes I have yet myself researched.
But I do not intend to learn more about Satan.
Nor about those demons...
Dispensing sins.
Where from inside a church...
People pray to be forgiven for them.
I am sure there are those who go to church,
Other than to wear their Sunday best.
Or to regurgitate...
Scriptures learned or verses they've rehearsed.
And in privacy misdeeds confessed.
But there is evidence lacking on urban streets,
Near these places where 'The Word' is heard.
And sermons are preached.
All I observe is decadence done.
Where hypocrites congregated and speak,
To others what 'they' should not do!
As a form of their 'community' outreach!
While showing how the devil does it.
From lessons recited to ignite inner fear.
And the 'how-one-should-live'
To get those expected golden 'wings'...
Given to them,
By a 'heavenly' being...
Adorning upon them 'halos' they've earn.
As melodious harmonic voices sing!
With angels appearing to dance near.
And this conflicts with my depiction of God!
When I witness the destruction of all that God creates.
As those who say they are of faith with 'belief'...
Do not find their actions neither wicked or odd!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Slider
Show me how to get home
Throw me like a stone
Show me how to get home
You love to watch me crawl
Home, just get me home, home, home
Stoned, cause I feel so stoned, oh no
Went to church one day
Repent my evil ways
I heard a voice call down
His words of wisdom sang
Home, just get me home, home, home
Stoned, cause I feel so stoned, oh no
Got this feeling inside my head
I'm spinning out of my ferris wheel red
Feels like home, it feels like home...
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Church Of Your Heart
Cant we leave the world outside
Just for a while? just for a while?
Spend some time, you and i
Under this bright glorious sky
Its been so long since I first saw you
But I still love that smile in your eyes
Yes its true, right from the start
I believed in the church of your heart
Yes its you, that make me part of
And I believe in the church of your heart
Step inside, lay yourself down
Just for a while, rest for a while
I can hear a thundering sound
Beating inside when youre around
Its been so long since I first met you
Since we made love, you know how time flies
Yes its true, right from the start
I believed in the church of your heart
Yes its you that make me be part of
And I believe in the church of your heart
In the church of your heart
Yes its true, right from the start
I believed in the church of your heart
Yes its you that make me be part of
And I believe in the church of your heart
Pretty baby its true, right from the start
I believed in the church of your heart
Yes its you that make me be part of
And I believe in the church of your heart
In the church of your heart
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Church Will Steal Your Money
When I said the Church
Will steal your money;
Hypocrites stoop and
Say I'm greedy.
But I entreat thee
Consult thy memory
Who said my God
Is hungry?
He has all to His means
in Heavenly.
Legions of angels
At His bid and calling.
Your service should be
For humanity.
I mean the ones who
are needy.
Let us now look back
To the time of Christ
He never asked for
A dollar nor a dime,
He said,
Give out your wealth
to the suffering;
I mean the ones who
Are hungry.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Kept Agendas Prioritized For Devilment
Many try to deny...
That demon that sits within them.
Hiding behind alibis disguised.
In church pews...
To bow,
Their embittered heads.
To mask their lies.
With truth sent away.
And blocked from regaining,
An entrance to stay.
Kept agendas prioritized for devilment...
Betrays the image,
Falsely on display.
Many try to deny...
That demon that sits within them.
Hiding behind alibis disguised.
In church pews...
To bow,
Their embittered heads.
To mask their lies.
And revenge with vindictiveness,
Sits in masquerade.
As hypocrites gather together...
Quoting from scriptures,
To protect their evil ways!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Enough Said!
if bigots breed bigots,
and hypocrites breed hypocrites...
and old heretics
rarely breed at all...
where are we now?
if our addictions
to our religions cause...
division, hatred, prejudice,
inequalities, and wars...
maybe we need to look
at what we believe!
i am so sick of
racial slurs, sexual slurs,
and ignorant fears...
i could vomit!
freedom...
inclusive,
not exclusive!
spiritual...
compassionate,
not judgmental!
enough said!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Looking For A Valentine
most of the time, she goes home early
never fails to visit the church and pray
she has been this way, hollow, empty,
the prayers never make her full
sometimes she extends her time in church
looking at the other faces hoping to find someone
that may like her, propose her a marriage
that at her last trip to love, she may not refuse
or have the right to, she has no right to choose now
at 33, she prayed so hard, and gave bigger tithes,
sponsored masses, and offered masses for her
dead ancestors,
until one day, someone paid her a special attention,
and she promised herself, she would not refuse him,
she married finally the priest, and so the emptiness
from her heart, transferred to the hallways of the church.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sundays Past
On Sunday mornings you would wear a dark suit
With a tie and shiny shoes you are ready to en route
The church bells would ring calling for morning mass
While you check the weather through the window glass
A last glance in the mirror and you are on your way
You join the church goers without any further delay
Walking over uneven cobblestones in our small town
Children would jump on the sidewalks up and down
Dressed up for church everyone is wearing their best
Thinking about the priest and what they have to confess
Men lifting their dark hats as they wish a Good Morning
Then pass by the cemetery bowing heads as in mourning
The church bells now ringing louder and more demanding
Calling all sinners to mass without misunderstanding
I always knew that right then the decision was made
And it was agreed to skip church without being afraid
Through the old alley you and others took a known detour
Heading straight to the pub on the corner that is for sure
Around noon I would go to meet my father by the church
And he would talk about mass having done some research
At home my mother would just smile and shake her head
While my father gave her a wink that was hardly misread
Joking around we would eat lunch smiling with every bite
Keeping my father's Sunday secret and the world was alright
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Celebrate Me Home
Home for the holidays,
I believe Ive missed each and every face,
Come on and play my music,
Lets turn on the love light in the place
Its time I found myself,
Totally surrounded in your circles
Whoa, my friends
Please, celebrate me home,
Give me a number,
Please, celebrate me home
Play me one more song,
That Ill always remember,
And I can recall,
Whenever I find myself too all alone,
I can sing me home.
Uneasy highway,
Traveling where the westerly winds can fly,
Somebody tried to tell me,
But the men forgot to tell me why,
I gotta count on being gone,
Come on woman, come on daddy,
Be what you want from me,
Im this strong, Ill be weak
Please, celebrate me home,
Give me a number,
Please, celebrate me home
Play me one more song,
That Ill always remember,
I can recall,
Whenever I find myself too all alone,
I can make believe Ive never gone,
I never know where I belong,
Sing me home.
Please, celebrate me home,
Give me a number,
Please, celebrate me home
Play me one more song,
Celebrate, celebrate
Celebrate, celebrate
Celebrate, celebrate
Celebrate me home
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Well Im finally here,
But Im bound to roam,
Come on celebrate me home
Well Im finally here,
But Im bound to roam,
Come on celebrate me home
Well Im finally here,
But Im bound to roam,
Come on celebrate me home
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
Please, celebrate me home,
(fade)
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America Is
America is
America is
America is
America is
America is the home of the hypocrite
America is the home of the hypocrite
America is the home of the hypocrite
American dream so f-f-full of it
Look at the indians
Look at the blacks
Look at the figures
Look at the facts
Check out the facts
The facts not the lies
When you find out
Big surprise
America is the home of the hypocrite
America is the home of the hypocrite
America is the home of the hypocrite
American dream so f-f-full of it
Check out the indians
Check out the blacks
Check out the figures
Check out the facts
Check out some facts
Check out the facts not the lies
When you find out
Its a big surprise right between the eyes
America is the home of the hypocrite
America is the home of the hypocrite
America is the home of the hypocrite
American dream so f-f-full of it
American dream is only a dream
No desperation limit
New desperation level
Even though my nose dont work
I smell trouble I smell trouble
No desperation limit
New desperation level
Murder, mureder in the goverment
Say youre sorry
Say youre sorry
No desperation limit
New desperation level
Turn the key
Turn the lock
Nationalism
You can suck my..
No desperation limit
New desperation level
Watch the worls progressin
Everywhere
Aggresion, aggresion
Aggresion, aggresion
Aggresion, aggresion
Gordon gano: vocal, guitar
Brian ritchie: bass, vocal
Victor delorenzo: drums, vocal
Recoded by dave nietzke at midwest records, milwaukee
Mixed by david vartanian at dvs perversion room, milwaukee
*previously unreleased
gorno music reprinted with permission
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sterile sermons
An old church stands with a spired steeple
Amidst the townspeople at Fox and Main
Where the hypocrites pray for sinful souls
And clergy holds sermons that entertain.
Within this sanctuary lined with pews
And opalescent glass and glittering gold
Odoriferous breaths of morning booze
Betray inebriants among the fold.
The Sunday sermon lectures temperance
Its message they heard many times before
The spoken words make no difference
Because people don’t heed them anymore.
The pimps and sots, sinners all congregate
Buying forgiveness while passing the plate.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Hero, My Heroin
I don’t need this
I don’t need you
Religious Hypocrites
Political bullshit
Propaganda overload
Test tube babies
Feed us with commercials
Rely on you
You are the hero, the heroin
You are my crutches
My savior undefiled by truth
To you we look towards hope
We sacrifice children to appease you
The wrath you hold
Worse than any gods
Lean on our shoulders
Feed on our land
Look for the undying hero
The heroin on which we depend
We stand for nothing
I found a new ecstasy
I don’t need your
Religious Hypocrites
Political bullshit
Propaganda overload
Anymore…
Look for the new way
To justify the deeds
Plagued with death
The color green is what it’s all about
Don’t you know?
You are my hero, my heroin
I would die for the cause
I shall give my life
To smother the breath
Of those unfaithful
For, you are my hero, my heroin
I need you, I love you, I want your heroin
Turn out the lights
Don’t want to see your
Religious Hypocrites
Political bullshit
Propaganda overload
Anymore…
poem by Paul Fisher
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Church Of Women
A lie for a lie, but a truth for the truth
Church of women is made out of milk
Which their love turns to butter -er -er
Church of women will have you give praise
With a laugh, bark and stutter -er -er
Like us men like us men they are nothing like us men
Men have gargoyles round their hearts
Im on my knees but dancing
Want to worship at the church of women
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Church of women is making donations of loving and giving -ing -ing
Church of women performing that miracle raising the living -ing -ing
Like us men like us men will they ever like us men?
Men have thorns around their minds
Im on my mountain preaching
Want to worship at the church of women
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Lie for a lie, but a truth for the truth
Give em back their house: the walls, the doors, the floors and roof
And stop tryin to diet on the wafers and wine and submit were in control
Now lets put things right
Lets multiply the loves and kisses
til we have enough to love and eat forever
Want to worship at the church of women
I want to worship at the church of women now
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Ill breathe em in until my head goes spinning round
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Want to worship at the church of women
(repeat x3 and fade)
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Easter's Past
Sitting in Church
Listening to sermons
With white patent leather shoes
A fancy dress and little white gloves
With a new purse,
My brothers all dressed
In nice shirts and pants,
My mom dressed up like a movie star
With her beautiful dress and hat,
My step dad who never cared for church
He even dressed up for the day.
And in our pockets
Were chocolate eggs and jelly beans
We were told not to take to church
But we couldn’t help it.
I would peek at my brothers
Sneaking candy out of their pockets
And when mom wasn’t looking
I would sneak some out of my purse,
And slowly let the chocolate egg
Dissolve in my mouth
I couldn’t let her see me chewing
Not in church!
We would come home
Have an egg hunt
That we enjoyed so much
That we all would hide the eggs again
Ourselves
Then we had a nice big Easter dinner
Maybe even play monopoly
While eating more Easter candy.
I know the holiday was about Jesus
Being resurrected
I had spent many years
In classes learning these things
But somehow Easter
Just reminds me more of
Family togetherness and love
And visits from the Easter Bunny
And I don’t think Jesus would mind that at all.
poem by Connie Webb
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Affectedness
I walk the Sunday streets once more
Long before the peal of church bells
Tuned to summon the hypocrites
From their cozy residences.
It will be awhile till they flock
En masse to the numinous house:
The butcher whose scale is slightly
Off in his favor; the lawyer
Whose soul was sold ages ago;
The car salesperson cramming cars;
Physicians unmindful of the poor
And an overweight clergyman
Orchestrating the proceedings.
Bong! Bong! Soon the parade begins.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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