Pity the poor believer,
He's having a really hard time.
Defending his god, and his churches obsessions.
It's weird superstitions, and doctrines divine.
All the sins of his church, he'd not noticed before.
He's doing his best against all the odds.
But it's really hard going and not very fair
without any reason or rhyme.
Pity the poor believer,
It comes as a bit of a shock.
Betrayed by his God, and called to explain
What 'everyone else' has done wrong.
The grief and deception, the conflict and war
All the cruelty man can inflict.
And all in the name of his peace loving God,
And his only son Jesus Christ.
Pity the poor believer,
He's not had to do this before.
No-one dared question his age old beliefs
God's word was the law, and the bible his proof.
With these and his priests, he need never question,
Contradictions he can't understand, not even thought of before.
Once it was simple and faith was enough,
It's just not like that any more.
written to be read at a meeting of peaceactivists many of whom
assume that their religions are the only legitimate basis for peace
activism. I see secularism and the struggle against superstition and
sectarianism as essential for world peace. I needed to say this without
confronting them too harshly
1) A Secular Prayer for Humanity
Let us not ask to be delivered from evil.
But deliver ourselves and our country
From Superstition born of fear.
From Prejudice born of dogma.
From Poverty born of Greed
Competition born of culture.
From Racism born of ignorance.
From Conflict born of power.
For these are the causes of war.
I also read my much earlier verse inspired by a leaflet created by the
Women's League for Peace and Freedom on war toys. The argument is that too
many men do not grow out of the child-like excitement of guns!
for this little verse came from an early leaflet on why not to buy war
toys- The main point being that some people never grow out out of the
excitement and the message of that childish 'fun'
Learning the Lessons
Look back and learn from the past.
Look back to the prayers that did not get answered.
To the death and destruction of past generations.
Look back to the old divine order,
To the buying and selling of women and children.
Betrothal for power and gain.
Look back to the armies of Christendom
With knights and saints at their head,
Bringing the heathen to heel.
Enough of this talking in riddles.
Look back to the cruel suppression
Of those with diff'rent beliefs.
Look back to the burning of torture
Of those who dared to oppose,
And the wholesale oppression of women
See now what hinders the making of peace.
How the age old beliefs still hold sway.
See now what it is that keeps people apart.
See still the sectarian strife.
Look forward to shedding irrational belief.
Look forward to thinking anew.
To ditching the old superstitions
To a new dawn of rational thought.
Pot-man keeping order
Shuffle round the bar.
Ends his daily usefulness
Downs another jar.
Bitter, stout, lager, mixed?
Who cares? not he.
Appealing eyes Defy rebuff.
Dog-ends and a pinch of snuff.
Pot Man' and 'Four Boys' - two verses on afternoon
observations in a West End pub. 1982
Four boys sit,
No time, no place
Suspended on the edge of space.
Observe the scene
No mind, no face, no go, no been.
In the Green Man
Amid the hustle, no go, no zest.
On the brink,
Just looking on
Inside, yet out, looking in, looking on
Time "gentlemen please"
One to the loo, three still in frieze.
Smoke from the lips
Words from the mouth
Animation, the moment is gone.
I'm sitting on the river bank, summer hazes rise.
The sound and swoop of summer birds,
I feel the need for words.
The smell of heavy country air. The time of new cut hay.
The antics of a tractor provide my cabaret.
Prancing, darting through the trees, it's heavy jaws
Rising, falling, turn about, like some ungainly beast.
It's ritual dance performing to an unseen mate
Hidden from my view, she watches,
Gazers at, admiringly his thrusts and pirouettes.
(Such erotic dancing, from a tractor seems absurd,
Yet there it is for all to see.
Cavorting in a secret field.... perhaps I shouldn't
Impressed to see his massive arms lift high a ton of hay
Gyrating back and forth, vibrating moves the very air.
She wonders at his manlike powers,
to lay the land so bare.
The haywain grows, just stubble left, one second, all is
Instant death, no cough or twitch
To show that life was there.....
Breath of Life
The human personality is like the wind.
Most hold a steady course...... with peaks and troughs.
From the first gasp and gusts of......
Air rushing in and out of tiny lungs.
In mood and action
Some rise and fall, blow hot, blow cold.
Others rage and storm and lash their lovers.
Rant and scream at life's injustice.
Storms and hurricanes scatter debris.
While tornadoes, wonderful to see
Leave in their wake a trail of trials and tribulations
Indiscriminate, people in it's path, blown and
To settle where they may.
While others hardly cause a ripple.
Exert a downward force to keep the millpond still.
Gentle souls who whisper, hardly move the air.
Till death the merest breath
Sigh, now still.
Patience is a virtue,
Possess it if you can.
You'll need it darling daughter,
You'll need it for a man.
You'll need it while you're waiting
While your chap props up the bar
While he adjusts his motorbike,
Or tries to start the car.
You'll need it for the hours
He spends, miles and miles away,
Watching cricket, football, golf,
Whatever's on that day.
Patience will be needed too
When tradesmen come to call.
You'll need it at the checkout,
And queuing in the rain,
You've got to go to town by train,
The damn thing's late again.
You'll need it at the clinics,
And for waiting at the schools.
Waiting is a part of life,
Try not to lose your cool
Patience will be needed too
When tradesmen come to call
They say they'll come so many times
Be glad they'll come at all!
Life is full of busy men.
Their time is worth a lot.
Have you ever wondered why
A woman's time is not?
Hello! I'm here,
can you see me?
I'm not small or grey,
Or in any way
I'm standing at the bar,
queuing with the men.
I have money in my hand.
I am waiting to be served...
Serve me! damn you serve me!
If I walked into a shop,
Picked up goods and walked away.
You'd see me then all right.
The clue is that I'm 50,
An instant give away
When I was young and beautiful
I was visible to all.
Men like cats, always aware.
Not only would they see me,
But would hear me, with one ear.
My children always saw me
At least when they were small.
But one thing you'll discover is
The change from Mum to Mother is
A real trans-sub-stance-iation
If I really do insist on being heard
I'll have to shout.
Be assertive, bang about a bit, not pout.
Then you'll see, not me, but her. The Bolshie
I get ten out of ten for being punctual. At
Being punctual is good, excellent, teacher is
I only get eight out of ten when femininity is
Going out, not being early, 'In a flutter', ten
out of ten.
I get ten out of ten for being on time.
At work. But nothing for leaving on time
Ten out of ten for being ready, good girl. Being
Four out of ten for expecting the gas-man on time
Ten out of ten for attending on time,
Ten out of ten for waiting waiting waiting......
Patience is a virtue.............
I get ten out of ten for being patient
There was this man
Jogging hell for leather down the road.
Great fat thighs and bosoms wobbling,
Great white legs, white arms, white vest.
Great face as red as puce.
Is he trying to get fit?
(My God! he should).
He'll give himself a heart attack,
What if he falls down dead?
Shall I stop and tell him so?
No, no he's having fun.
This fear that grips me like a vice,
(squeezed till I can hardly breath).
Fills my throat and gullet full
Nauseates am makes me heave.
Panic rises, shakes my reason,
Threatens now to overtake me.
Engulf my life and drown it out.
I cannot speak, say how I feel
If I should try the words would choke me.
Crowding, bursting in my throat.
Think of something ere it takes me
Into depths of dark despair,
From where I can't escape.
Don't anybody sympathise
Lest tears held down, spill out my eyes
And I am lost.
Though your breath is stopped with fear,
Gushing panic fills your ear,
Hold it under,
Don't give way.
Look at ease,
Try to smile.
Though your heart is beating wild,
Struck with terror like a child,
Shut your eyes.
Just hold on.
despoiling of the countryside, disruption, and the
realisation of the folly of so much fast polluting
traffic is symbolised by the motorway.
I am ashamed to say
How much...I love...the motorway.
It's broad, bold sweep excites me.
If they were the tracks of some gigantic beast
We'd gaze, admire and wonder.
The toil and sweat they represent.
The savage navvy life.
This slime-trail of a modern brute,
Slicing, clean through the rock and clay.
Reform the shape we never saw.
Relentless to reclaim.
No traffic lights to slow us down
Free to soar and Glide like cats
How can we contemplate
An end to such a god?
coal black bosom of the land,
Lies the night road, a
rope of gems.
Curving with its gentle
Cutting deeply through its
Strands of silver
Constant in this wake of
Streaks of gold and rubies
Pairs of brilliants
Rare, exciting threads of
Warn of wayward pendant
Out there suspended in the
Golden studded satellites.
A jewel display, confined,
Sustained excitement to my
Mesmerised in high
Gliding through this
purring silent, galaxy in space
Who Am I?
want to be me?
I want to be someone else?
want to be me
I know who I am
why I should want to be me?
want to be someone else.
what am I wanting to be?
can I know till I change?
may want to change back.
change who I am,
change my clothes, hair and style.
I? Maybe I have to change first.
can change what I look like,
I look like what I am,
be able to change what I am.
changing my lifestyle...........Or can I?
beautiful healthy well-fed teenagers would rush in, throw off
their things, and groan without thought " I'm
For Joanne, Philip, Justine, David &
Aggravation and contentment,
Boys and girls, endless arrangement,
Find acceptance and resentment,
Seeking sorrow and enjoyment
Hardly children, not yet adult
Each the other praise and insult.
Follow blindly every new cult
Life runs on in endless tumult.
Pranks and games co-operation.
Over-eat and mock starvation.
Adventure, refuge, celebration,
Love, commitment, aggravation.
there is no more hospital visiting
Suddenly there are no more 'ifs'
and 'buts' and 'maybes'
Suddenly there is no more time.
Time to do what was not done.
Time to say what was not said.
The panic's gone, too late, too
Only time to sit and think.
To cry, remember
The news, the fear, the
waiting, the panic,
even now there is
Today is quiet and still.
There are empty spaces in
the day, we try to fill.
All the waiting, fear and
panic are over.
Her life complete
woman on an Internet forum said that "Some people
worry, when they go to sleep at night, because they
are afraid they might die" and she thought that
that was a reason why religion might be important to
people, "especially as they grow older".
This did not make sense to me.
Should I not Wake
Would dying be so easy?
No, I will grow old as my mother grew old.
I will age as best I can.
But I will not enjoy it if I don't want to.
Every age so far has had its ups and downs.
Why should old age not also have its compensations.
I am an atheist, I need not fear death.
I care how I live, and I care how I die.
But when I'm dead and gone, I'm dead and gone.
All problems solved, all worries at an end.
No heaven, no hell, no judgement day.
I will not be afraid, just angry not to know
How the world will get on without me!
verse, wit, jokes & cartoons from an atheist