No, seriously. It's the National Day Of Prayer. Not everyone is happy about it.
It's time to raise our voice in prayer,
And pray to--well, there's no one there.
No god to urge to do our bidding;
Go on and pray--just know you're kidding.
It's time to all sit on our asses,
And pray forgiveness for trespasses
(Or is that to forgive our debtor?
Who cares, as long as we feel better.)
It's time we all embrace god fully,
Feel all righteous, good, and holy--
Or be some atheistic jerk,
Roll up your god-damned sleeves, and work!
It's time to say "I do not care
To join you in this day of prayer."
Sure, a day off looks like fun,
But there is work that must be done.
Our problems will not fix themselves
There is no god to send in elves
To do the work of human ranks
So... join, today, in prayer? No thanks.
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15 comments:
This designated worship day
Makes me feel pious, I must say.
So much, in fact, that now I fear
I’m done for the rest of the year.
Come on now, please give prayer a chance!
Perhaps we'll do a fine rain dance,
Or clasp our hands to repent our folly
Or sing a song, won't that be jolly?
And if it doesn't work, well then
It wasn't enough, so try again!
And if it fails a second time,
It's because our prayers didn't rhyme.
And if our words don't end the drought,
It's only because we weren't devout
Enough to let our prayers be heard
So try once more now, for the third!
Fifty years from now, you'll see
My prayers will be answered eventually.
Although you've worked until you dread it,
It's God, not you, who gets the credit!
This is why I fail to mention
Under veil of pretension
That I am American
For truly, if I was to say
That I agreed with this in any way
Here I come, Cirque Du Soleil!
Praying is a pointless bother
(Like explaining verse to your father)
And should be abandoned for more constructive things.
(And I must say, time pertaining
That I've found your blog
Very entertaining.)
Poetic, no that is not me
How you do it, I cannot see
To give god thanks?
It's just nonsensical
To give to blood banks
is much more sensible
You can see now why I don't do verses
This is one of my new favorite blogses
I once said a prayer in Nantucket:
James Dobson would soon kick the bucket.
His smirk went on
Just like his con
And my lunch, I proceeded to chuck it.
Did they die?
God called them home.
Did they live?
God spared his own.
And so no matter
how you choose,
Live or die,
they just can't lose.
God answers every
prayer, they know;
Sometimes the answer
though, is no,
and so you see,
the game is bent:
Yes or no,
it's heaven-sent.
And when they must,
they have a cannon
(no, not a priest,
that one's a canon):
Your prayer's unanswered?
Well, my son,
It must be that you're
the evil one.
God's ways are holy,
pure and good:
he'd help you, surely,
if he could -
and since all mighty's
what he is:
the fault is yours, boy,
never his.
Okay, no Friday limerick, so here's one for today.
Day of Prayer
How moral and holy the Day of Prayer was!
‘Mongst many religions it stirred up a buzz
Of anger, hard feelings and downright denial,
‘Cause the Dobson-led task force required a trial…
Of faith before ‘llowing just anyone other
Than one kind of Christion; the rest could just smother
Themselves in frustration - their prayers clearly not Quite good enough, right enough, just so much rot!
They got all their long johns in such a tight twist,
They formed some more groups because they’re really pissed!
Now competitive praying’s the new sport of choice.
I wonder whose team had the best praying voice?
Do you think they kept score of which prayers got answered?
Which style worked the best? Did they make us de-cancered?
Did all of those prayers even make a real dent
In hunger or violence? Did they circumvent
Any wars, rapes or illness? Were they efficacious?
Or was the day wasted? Was prayer proved fallacious?
I’m sure they will claim that their God-given grace
Created His blessings all over the place.
As usual, they’ll point to just any good thing
God did it! How holy! Let’s rejoice and sing…
Because He has saved us. See, we are still here!
That proves that He loves us. (Didn’t He give us beer?)
So, again there’s no stopping those legions, devout.
No matter how false, they leave reasoning out!
Lily-livers! Serpent-gods won't heed
Your pleadings. Weak-kneed
Words are not enough:
Your tongue must bleed!
Santa loves me, this I know;
For my Clement tells me so.
I am meek for he sees all;
I'll get gifts if I don't fall.
How Firm The Foundation?
There was no Day of Prayer, of course,
When General George sat on his horse,
Or stood up in the boat that night
The god-forsaken Brits to fight.
Nor did we pray as one back when
Poor Richard (nom de plume of Ben)
While building up his pow’r and pelf
Said “god helps him who helps himself.”
And neither John nor Abigail
Did think it meet a god to hail
From Maine to Georgia in one voice:
For prayer’s an individual choice.
Young Tom, who liked a pretty wench,
Our liberty, and all things French —
In everything he did Declare,
Did not include a Nation’l prayer.
James, who, mayhap by heaven’s lights,
Fought hard to pass the Bill of Rights,
Would say those rights are violate
When prayer is sponsored by the state.
The Founders’ time, it was, some say,
Our country’s grand, most glorious day!
We were more moral just, and fair,
Back then, before our Day of Prayer.
Wow! What a great bunch of poets out there! I'll have to hand it to you, Cuttles! You have inspired some real talent to show itself! Kudos to all! But to you, special thanks for unleashing all this heretofore pent-up creativity!
I am tickled, and filled with delight
Though I'm thinking, already I might
Have to face up to facts:
That with all these class acts,
I'm now seventh best bard on the site!
Seventh? Oh surely you jest.
Our poems are at your behest.
It’s your number one-ness that led to our progress,
Such modesty we must protest!
With verses, so pure and high-browed,
We acknowledge you’re, word-wise, endowed…
In such a fine way, that we’ve all come to play
In your sandbox - mayhap your dust cloud!
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