NOM

https://medium.com/@bijalashah/why-poet ... %20therapy.

The best poetry is written when we are truly in the midst of our emotions and struggling to gain clarity. This is when the cathartic release of emotions to pen and then paper as an outlet calms us, gives us clarity and enables us to move forward.

Just wanted to share how much writing poetry has helped me through some of the most difficult times in my journey. It is still something I do as an emotional and creative outlet.

I was told that I was an agent
free to act upon my will
That I would be given a Savior
Who would help to pay my bill

I was told that this choice started early
that now we would hold a vote
To choose between Satan and Jesus
just write upon this note

Jesus won! We were the good guys
1/3 were shown to the door
But we were heading to earth life
why worry about them anymore

But now I belong to a church
where they only care about his name
They don't really follow his example
everyone's just playing a game

The goal is to look all self-righteous
definitely better than thou
And we have a man we rely on
who is happy to tell us just how

We don't really follow Jesus
Rusty is sure never wrong
As long as you quote and obey him
Its the signal that you truly belong

Feed the hungry and lonely
and clothe the naked too
Unless we can build a shopping mall
'cause thats what Rusty'd do

Love your neighbor greatly
Your enemy, don't hate
But Rusty says if their lgb
Then go and vote for prop 8

It really makes you wonder
if its a real church after all
or if it's just a harmful cult
the gullible to trawl



You mean like that?
-lost

I'm reminded of this poem by Elder Robert A. Zimmerman

Come Prophets and Apostles
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorways
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he that has stalled
There's a battle outside raging
Will soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are changing.

The line is drawn
The curse is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
And the present now
Will later be past;
The order is rapidly fading
The first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are changing.

Love it lost and Moksha!

Is anyone else familiar with the poem guy on Reddit?

u/poem_for_your_sprog

Look him up!

Here’s one of his poems for and in behalf of Elder Bednar:

My friends,
although it might be strange,
The finest way to see the change,
To spot the small distinction quick
Betwixt a pickle and a dick,
Is not to look, my brothers, no,
And not to take a pic below
To hold beside the pickle-peen
And there,
compare the in-between -

"My friends,
the surest, safest means
To see which way the pickle leans,
Or where the leaner penis hides,
The willy waits,
the ball abides,
Is simply this:

You make your pick.

You choose the pickle,
or the dick.

You hold it in your line of sight.

And then, my friends...

... you take a bite."

From the Coffee Shop forum, I wrote a song parody. The link is below. The therapy aspect was in dealing with my frustration over how poor our leadership has handled the pandemic in America. Particularly frustrating is that a perfect opportunity to unite a people was squandered, with the exploiters of division using the pandemic to seek their own interests over the common good.

https://newordermormon.net/viewtopic.php?f=7&t=5353

There once was a man from Nauvoo
Who restored the old gospel anew
But he put his wife Emma
In quite a dilemma
When he scored with a lady or two

Hagoth wrote: ↑Wed Oct 21, 2020 1:22 pm There once was a man from Nauvoo
Who restored the old gospel anew
But he put his wife Emma
In quite a dilemma
When he scored with a lady or two

Emily Dickinson had several poems addressing her struggles with the Christian religion she was raised in.

To lose One's faith — surpass
The loss of an Estate —
Because Estates can be
Replenished — faith cannot —

Inherited with Life —
Belief — but once — can be —
Annihilate a single clause —
And Being's — Beggary —


"Faith" is a fine invention
For Gentlemen who see!
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency!


Of Course — I prayed —
And did God Care?
He cared as much as on the Air
A Bird — had stamped her foot —
And cried "Give Me" —
My Reason — Life —
I had not had — but for Yourself —
'Twere better Charity
To leave me in the Atom's Tomb —
Merry, and nought, and gay, and numb —
Than this smart Misery.