The Staunch Atheist Poem by bobby beddoe

It's not the church-goer that concerns me so,
Nor those who never darken a Temple's door. No.
Rather, t'is the Atheist,
The doer godless who resist;
Just pipsqueaks, vain, loudmouths since embryo!

Jesus understands the staunch atheist's mind-set,
And how, within the heart, its dwelt since onset;
And they, so proudly,
Sound-off quite loudly,
As if Golgotha could use another picket!

But on harvest-day when goat is culled from lamb,
Whose chosen path at final sunset is a sham;
Each generation
From every nation,
Will reap what they sewed since the time of Adam!

In vain, for atheistic's ilk, He shed His blood,
While for believers His blood parralled the rosebud.
But, as for ilk's part,
There's hate in their heart.
So they try to smear His name by slinging smutty mud!

Me? Well, I'll be outa here on Rapture date,
For I've been assured my name's on Heaven's slate.
But, some friends I hold quite dear,
I'll be leaving those folks here,
To choose, over the next seven years, their own fate!

As atheist's lights go out - astride their life-long doubt,
They'll seek Heaven's solace - reserved for the devout.
But, St. Peter will say,
'You're headed the wrong way.'
And he'll re-route them to a different layout!