Hell And Stuff Poem by Martin O'Neill
Hell And Stuff
I don't hold a candle
For religion.
At least, not the sort that
Threatens, frightens and
Bullies.
Demands my love,
My adulation and fear as if
They are somehow compatible
Because apparently He loves me
But still has a big fire going on
In the background
Where He burns the flesh off the bones
Of naughty children
And dissidents.
He calls them heretics, it seems.
Must be a busy place,
Hell.
Great poem, very thought provoking. I think religion, when drummed into us when we're young, scares us so much that we're afraid to think for ourselves. It's like the scary movie you see on TV on your own and even though you know there's no one else in the house you can't go to sleep for fear that there is!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 1:22:23 AM # 1.0.0.1119
It must indeed - very good write. Have you read mine entitled Heaven and Hell, a bit lengthy but carries a similar philosophy.