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