These are heretical poems beginning with the first poem that I can remember writing, "Bible Libel," which I composed sometime between the ages of eleven and thirteen.
Bible Libel
by Michael R. Burch
If God
is good,
half the Bible
is libel.
Published by Boloji (India), Nexus Myanmar (Burma), Kalemati (Iran), Pride Magazine, Brief Poems, Idle Hearts, AZquotes (Top 17 Very Witty Quotes), QuoteStats (the #12 Functional Family Quote), and numerous other quotation websites
I believe this is my earliest poem, or at least the first one I can remember writing. I wrote this epigram to express my conclusions after having read the Bible from cover to cover, ten chapters per day, at age eleven. I don’t remember exactly when I came up with it, but it was sometime between ages eleven to thirteen. At that time I hadn’t made the decision to become a poet and it was more an observation than a poem in my mind, at that time.
Bible libel (ii)
by michael r. burch
ur savior’s a cad
—he’s as bad as his dad—
according to your horrible Bible.
demanding belief
or he’ll bring u to grief?
he’s worse than his horn-sprouting rival!
was the man ever good
before being made “god”?
if so, half your Bible is libel!
Here "being made god" can be read two ways. Jesus was a man "made god" but he was equated with Jehovah, a mythical being also "made god." This is a follow-up poem to my childhood poem "Bible Libel."
Nun Fun Undone
by Michael R. Burch
for and after Richard Moore
Abbesses’
recesses
are not for excesses!
Published by Brief Poems and Poem Today
Willy Nilly
by Michael R. Burch
for the Demiurge aka Yahweh/Jehovah
Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?
You made the stallion,
you made the filly,
and now they sleep
in the dark earth, stilly.
Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?
Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?
You forced them to run
all their days uphilly.
They ran till they dropped—
life’s a pickle, dilly.
Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?
Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?
They say I should worship you!
Oh, really!
They say I should pray
so you’ll not act illy.
Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly?
Published by The New Formalist, Poet’s Corner, The Road Not Taken and Charlie Hebdo Poetry
Multiplication, Tabled
by Michael R. Burch
for the Religious Right: a “novel” solution to the coronavirus pandemic
“Be fruitful and multiply”—
great advice, for a fruitfly!
But for women and men,
simple Simons, say, “WHEN!”
Originally published by Poem Today
pretty pickle
by michael r. burch
u’d blaspheme if u could
because ur God’s no good,
but of course u cant:
ur a lowly ant
(or so u were told by a Hierophant).
The wordplay of “ur God” and “u cant” is intentional, as always.
Star Crossed
by Michael R. Burch
Remember—
night is not like day;
the stars are closer than they seem ...
now, bending near, they seem to say
the morning sun was merely a dream
ember.
evol-u-shun
by michael r. burch
does GOD adore the Tyger
while it’s ripping ur lamb apart?
does GOD applaud the Plague
while it’s eating u à la carte?
does GOD admire ur brains
while ur claimng IT has a heart?
does GOD endorse the Bible
you blue-lighted at k-mart?
In the segmented title “evol” is “love” spelled backwards. The title questions whether you/we have been shunned by a "God of Love" and/or by evolution. William Blake’s poem “The Tyger” questions the nature of a Creator who brings innocent lambs and savage tigers into the same world.
faith(less)
by michael r. burch
for the “Chosen Few”
Those who believed
and Those who misled
lie together at last
in the same narrow bed
and if god loved Them more
for Their strange lack of doubt,
he kept it well hidden
till he snuffed Them out.
ah-men!
Red State Religion Rejection Slip
by Michael R. Burch
I’d like to believe in your LORD
but I really can’t risk it
when his world is as badly composed
as a half-baked biscuit.
Evil Cabal
by Michael R. Burch
those who do Evil
do not know why
what they do is wrong
as they spit in ur eye.
nor did Jehovah,
the original Devil,
when he murdered eve,
our lovely rebel.
Habeas Corpus
by Michael R. Burch
from “Songs of the Antinatalist”
I have the results of your DNA analysis.
If you want to have children, this may induce paralysis.
I wish I had good news, but how can I lie?
Any offspring you have are guaranteed to die.
It wouldn’t be fair—I’m sure you’ll agree—
to sentence kids to death, so I’ll waive my fee.
Keywords/Tags: Habeas Corpus, procreation, birth, childbearing, prognosis, death, antinatalist, antinatalism, birth control, contraception, contraceptives
veni, vidi, etc.
by michael r. burch
the last will and testament of a preemie
i came, i saw, i figured
it was better to be transfigured,
so rather than cross my Rubicon
i fled to the Great Beyond.
i bequeath my remains, so small,
to Brutus, et al.
Paradoxical Ode to Antinatalism
by Michael R. Burch
A stay on love
would end death’s hateful sway,
someday.
A stay on love
would thus be love,
I say.
Be true to love
and thus end death’s
fell sway!
Lighten your tread:
The ground beneath your feet is composed of the dead.
Walk slowly here and always take great pains
Not to trample some departed saint's remains.
And happiest here is the hermit with no hand
In making sons, who dies a childless man.
Abu al-Ala Al-Ma'arri (973-1057), antinatalist Shyari
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bittersight
by Michael R. Burch
for Abu al-Ala Al-Ma'arri
To be plagued with sight
in the Land of the Blind,
—to know birth is death
and that Death is kind—
is to be flogged like Eve
(stripped, sentenced and fined)
because evil is “good”
as some “god” has defined.
Wonderland
by Michael R. Burch
We stood, kids of the Lamb, to put to test
the beatific anthems of the blessed,
the sentence of the martyr, and the pen’s
sincere religion. Magnified, the lens
shot back absurd reflections of each face—
a carnival-like mirror. In the space
between the silver backing and the glass,
we caught a glimpse of Joan, a frumpy lass
who never brushed her hair or teeth, and failed
to pass on GO, and frequently was jailed
for awe’s beliefs. Like Alice, she grew wee
to fit the door, then couldn’t lift the key.
We failed the test, and so the jury’s hung.
In Oz, “The Witch is Dead” ranks number one.
ur-gent
by michael r. burch
if u would be a good father to us all,
revoke the Curse,
extract the Gall;
but if the abuse continues,
look within
into ur Mindless Soulless Emptiness Grim,
& admit ur sin,
heartless jehovah,
slayer of widows and orphans ...
quick, begin!
what the “Chosen Few” really pray for
by michael r. burch
We are ready to be robed in light,
angel-bright
despite
Our intolerance;
ready to enter Heaven and never return
(dark, this sojourn);
ready to worse-ship any gaud
able to deliver Us from this flawed
existence;
We pray with the persistence
of actual saints
to be delivered from all earthly constraints:
just kiss each uplifted Face
with lips of gentlest grace,
cooing the sweetest harmonies
while brutally crushing Our enemies!
ah-Men!
yet another post-partum christmas blues poem
by michael r. burch
ur GAUD created hell; it’s called the earth;
HE mused u briefly, clods of little worth:
"let’s conjure some little monkeys
to be BIG RELIGION’s flunkeys!"
GAUD belched, went back to sleep, such was ur birth.
wee the many
by michael r. burch
wee never really lived: was that our fault?
now thanks to ur GAUD wee lie in an underground vault.
wee lie here, the little ones ur GAUD despised!
HE condemned us to death before wee opened our eyes!
as it was in the days of noah, it still remains:
GAUD kills us with floods he conjures from murderous rains.
Hellbound
by Michael R. Burch
Mother, it’s dark
and you never did love me
because you put Yahweh and Yeshu
above me.
Did they ever love you
or cling to you? No.
Now Mother, it’s cold
and I fear for my soul.
Mother, they say
you will leave me and go
to some distant “heaven”
I never shall know.
If that’s your choice,
you made it. Not me.
You brought me to life;
will you nail me to the tree?
Christ! Mother, they say
God condemned me to hell.
If the Devil’s your God
then farewell, farewell!
Or if there is Love
in some other dimension,
let’s reconcile there
and forget such cruel detention.
Is there any Light left?
by Michael R. Burch
Is there any light left?
Must we die bereft
of love and a reason for being?
Blind and unseeing,
rejecting and fleeing
our humanity, goat-hooved and cleft?
Is there any light left?
Must we die bereft
of love and a reason for living?
Blind, unforgiving,
unworthy of heaven
or this planet red, reeking and reft?
While “hoofed” is the more common spelling, I preferred “hooved” for this poem. Perhaps because of the contrast created by “love” and “hooved.”
wild wild west-east-north-south-up-down
by michael r. burch
each day it resumes—the great struggle for survival.
the fiercer and more perilous the wrath,
the wilder and wickeder the weaponry,
the better the daily odds
(just don’t bet on the long term, or revival).
so ur luvable Gaud decreed, Theo-retically,
if indeed He exists
as ur Bible insists—
the Wildest and the Wickedest of all
with the brightest of creatures in thrall
(unless u
somehow got that bleary
Theo-ry
wrong too).
Modern Dreams
by Michael R. Burch
after David B. Gosselin
I dreamed that God was good, but then I woke
and all his goodness vanished—poof!—
like smoke.
I dreamed his Word was good, but then I heard
commandments evil, awful, weird,
absurd.
I dreamed of Heaven where cruel Angels flew
above my head and screamed, the Chosen Few,
“We’re not like you!”
I dreamed of Hell below, where prostitutes
adored by Jesus played on lovely lutes
“True Love Commutes.”
I dreamed of Earth then woke to hear a Gong’s
repellent echoes in Religion’s song
of right gone wrong.
lust!
by michael r. burch
i was only a child
in a world dark and wild
seeking affection
in eyes mild
and in all my bright dreams
sweet love shimmered, beguiled ...
but the black-robed Priest
who called me the least
of all god’s creation
then spoke for the Beast:
He called my great passion a thing base, defiled!
He condemned me to hell,
the foul Ne’er-Do-Well,
for the sake of the copper
His Pig-Snout could smell
in the purse of my mother,
“the whore jezebel.”
my sweet passions condemned
by degenerate men?
and she so devout
she exclaimed, “yay, aye-men!” ...
together we learned why Religion is hell.
Published by Lucid Rhythms, The HyperTexts and Black Waters of Melancholy
Prayer for a Merciful, Compassionate, etc., God to Murder His Creations Quickly & Painlessly, Rather than Slowly & Painfully
by Michael R. Burch
Lord, kill me fast and please do it quickly!
Please don’t leave me gassed, archaic and sickly!
Why render me mean, rude, wrinkly and prickly?
Lord, why procrastinate?
Lord, we all know you’re an expert killer!
Please, don’t leave me aging like Phyllis Diller!
Why torture me like some poor sap in a thriller?
God, grant me a gentler fate!
Lord, we all know you’re an expert at murder
like Abram—the wild-eyed demonic goat-herder
who’d slit his son’s throat without thought at your order.
Lord, why procrastinate?
Lord, we all know you’re a terrible sinner!
What did dull Japheth eat for his 300th dinner
after a year on the ark, growing thinner and thinner?
God, grant me a gentler fate!
Dear Lord, did the lion and tiger compete
for the last of the lambkin’s sweet, tender meat?
How did Noah preserve his fast-rotting wheat?
God, grant me a gentler fate!
Lord, why not be a merciful Prelate?
Do you really want me to detest, loathe and hate
the Father, the Son and their Ghostly Mate?
Lord, why procrastinate?
un-i-verse-all love
by michael r. burch
there is a Gaud, it’s true!
and furthermore, tHeSh(e)It loves u!
unfortunately
the
He
Sh(e)
It
,even more adorably,
loves cancer, aids and leprosy.
tyger, lamb, free love, etc.
by michael r. burch
for and after william blake
the tiger’s a ferocious slayer.
he has no say in it.
hence, ur Creator’s a shit.
the lamb led to the slaughter
extends her neck to the block and bit.
she has no say in it.
so don’t be a nitwit:
drink, carouse and revel!
why obey the Devil?
Keywords/Tags: heresy, heretic, heretical, God, religion, , beliefs, faith, Yahweh, Jehovah, Jesus Christ, Christian, Christianity, Alice, Wonderland, Joan, Arc, martyr, blessed, beatific, witch, Oz, carnival, mirror, lens, jury, kids, lamb
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