Reads: 285  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story hidden from the Bible's pages.

Submitted: January 18, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 18, 2011




It's hidden from the Bible's verse, its pages and their folds,
a story soaked in secrecy, its legend God witholds.
It's rumoured that the story tells of God and His disgust,
with what He first created, of the boy He left to rust.

\"Dear Father, all I yearn to do is worship where you stand,
and bask forever in the wonders that you built by hand,
O' Father all I ask of you is that my heart be saved,
I'm sorry for the things I've done, the evil and depraved.\"

Consumed by shame for sins he doesn't even know he's sinned,
he prays he'll find forgiveness when he whispers on the wind,
but truthfully his prayers are lost, they stack up and decay,
collecting dust and cobwebs locked away in Limbo's grey.

\"Now I don't mean to bother you in your celestial grace,
it's just it's been a while since last you graced with your embrace
the first born son who loves you still, who'll love you evermore
O' who am I to hold a grudge with you who I adore?\"

An empty stare into a sky that's hollow just like him,
it's blank behind the eyes that gleam, beneath ceramic skin,
see no expense was spared when God stitched up this work of art,
but now He'd rather spend his time a million miles apart.

\"Well, gee! It must be pretty hectic up there in the clouds
as all I ever wanted was to for me to make you proud,
but now you waste the days with your new plaything, Planet Earth,
I hope the Humans kill themselves, for all my voice is worth.\"

Another thousand years would pass and still he went ignored
when finally it dawned on him that that this was not his 'Lord,'
suddenly the voice inside his heart felt like a stranger
not a betting man he had no time for Pascal's wager.

\"Dear Mister 'I'm so busy I just couldn't care at all,'
you're just a dead beat dad, I took your cross down off my wall,
and P.S. Thanks for nothing, I threw out your rosary,
I put my trust in you but should have had more faith in me.\"

A lightbulb shone above his head and burned right through his brain,
implanting an idea so grand it couldn't be contained.
He incubated that idea until it hatched a plan,
the only way his God could ever cower to a man.

\"I'm bored of you ignoring me and trudging to confession,
done with feeling shame for every minor indescretion,
well listen up for once, for eveything you put me through,
I'd gladly wipe my mind if it meant my forgetting you.\"

And so he set about to cleanse his soul of Hymn - amen -
aborting part of him that never could be born again.
Forever done with saying grace and done with feeling blessed,
done with God but with one final secret to confess.

\"But if one day while flicking through your catalogue of prayers,
you stumble on my aging wish with miracles to spare,
and once again I feel the safety of your arms, my King,
then all those times before you broke my heart won't mean a thing.\"

And so again millenia would pass, his patience frayed,
torn at the seams where once he'd been so carefully crocheted.
Ceramic skin now cracked, once perfect hair now held in knots,
the Human race long gone, now underneath the dirt it rots.

\"I wish I'd never thought to stare up at the sky at all,
as now I only look up in the hope I'll see you fall,
you didn't leave me any choice, what else was I to do?
You don't believe in my so why should I believe in you?\"

© Copyright 2018 November. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Religion and Spirituality Poems