On top of spaghetti

Flying_Spaghetti_Monster

Tempests we in teapots
Orbit as we scrimmage,
Blaspheme God above,
New improve our image,

Worshipping ourselves,
Letting off some steam,
We carbohydrate God,
And float Him in a dream.

A pasta monster muted,
Trapped in time and space,
Changeful, convoluted,
No mouth about his face,

Without a Word for man,
And fully mutable,
As patrons we demand
Our God consumable.

Without a God to serve,
We’ll serve ourself you see,
A dish of our construct,
One of banality.

One we may consume,
Served rightly to our taste,
One where there’s always room,
When in our belly placed.

Philippians 3:17-21 – “Brethren, be followers together of me, and mark them which walk so as ye have us for an ensample.(For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ: Whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things.) For our conversation is in heaven; from whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ: Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the working whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself.”

Damnation

His kingdom come we pray,

Then sanctify each false display

Of evil’s imitation

Channeled through our nation,

Where anchored men, fish bowl priests

Offer Christmas bomber’s briefs,

Burned passports from crashing planes

Driving thoughtful men insane.

Magic bullets Disney rich

Turning culture into kitsch,

Brothers turning enemies

Urging others to their knees.

Ignoring vanished liberties

And distant murdered fare.

Keep passing bucks to show we care.

Offering up our kin outright,

Giving in, without a fight,

Ignoring as we crush and burn,

Distant lands each one in turn.

Wars we base on holy lies

Turned from truth with blinded eyes,

Opened up for Cupcake Wars,

Sexy chef’s, and bridal stores.

Such our fate when turned from God.

His ancient enemy declawed

Yet he well aware our drill,

Since we took his bitter pill,

On the prowl amidst us still,

Seeking Hell with men to fill

From each earthly nation,

We God’s own creations,

Fully imaged, bodied souls,

Care taking, creative roles,

Quickened by his Holy breath,

Choosing still the way of death,

Turning from the Righteous King,

Seeking only just our thing

Rejecting God’s salvation

At peace amidst damnation.

The beast

The beast it runs ahead we track it by its dung.

Divorced and pooped collective troop,

Our song is nearly sung.

The vacant stares that will not care

Frolic here without a tear,

Steering clear of Godly fearĀ for coming full undone.

___

The beast it passes oils and gases

On which we skate about

Along it’s snouted route.

We follow now in line,

Though some do dare

To flank with care,

Spying out on just what fare

The beast does choose to dine.

___

Our brother’s there it rips and tears

Until they do resign.

Not all consumed,

All meet their doom,

All fuel the beast in time.

Making room for all this way,

Democratizing every day,

Filling up tomorrows

With wagons full of sorrows.

In its path, the silent spent,

Salute their flag, its excrement.