MK forum

Wrote this for a FB group I joined, thought it might get a laugh or me excomunicated, so here goes:

Two Billion Christians
We cannot all be wrong
So Mr Brmused
Change your liberal song

O.k. One Billion Christians
Cuz them Catholics are in err
So Mr Bemused
Do not us Christians slur

Umm Half a Billion true Christians
Deleting those who question the Bible true
So that makes about 200 million Christians
Who share the Christian view

O.k. out go the gays and liberals
Those who read not the KJV
So Mr Bemused there is still
A lot who think like me

But if I’m really honest
It’s just my church that is in true light
So that’s about a hundred
Who have got Christianity just right

Well when I say about a hundred
Some don’t attend as regularly as they should
And I just can’t stand quite a few
I’m sure that you’ve clearly understood

Actually I’m the only true Christian
All the rest are very wrong
Time to start the one true church
Mr Bemused, will you come along?

Funny, but close to the truth, for some.

Your MK brother is fine
He holds his trauma very well
He speaks not a jot about it
Although you suspect he’s suffered hell

His wife has some bruises
She must have run into a door
And she seems a little nervous
As if she knows what is in store

But the MK God will take care of it
No need to interfere
He will hold them close and comfort them
And hold them very near

Until the day he boils over
He can’t take it any more
And he takes a life or two
For his soul was truly sore

Our MK brother might be fine
He might really walk the walk
But he might be really screwed up
And need another MK to whom to talk

How many MKs like this are there out there, all over the world? I have no idea, because they are the silent ones.

If their numbers were to be known, would that break the stone-cold hearts of those who SHOULD care, but don't?

I think I already know the answer to that.

I went to meet a group of men
That species that does not feel
Who bottle up it all inside
And find it hard to heal

We were asked to step forward
And tell our journey one by one
I thought “Holy Cow, poor me
Why oh why did I come”

But I girded up my loins
And rambled on about my past
The abuse, the pain, the journey
And the healing that came at last

I spoke of chasing evil men
And putting some where they belong
I spoke of child abuse
And how I believed it to be so wrong

Then a man across the room
Spoke of his childhood hell
The drugs, the booze, attempted suicide
Yet he too had moved through as well

Then he rose from his chair
And hugged me with manly care
Saying “brother you gave me all the courage
My nightmare with others to now share”

And we talked about our journeys
Then agreed to talk again
For we both know if we do
We will stay liberated men

I wish we had a heart smilie to choose from.

<3

If I said I am Agnostic
Would I become a Mission Field
Would I be told God will heal your soul
If you but to Him yield?

Would the Bible be quoted
And “repent” I be told
Which is what they who beat my soul
Shouted in days of old

For if by being honest
A mission field I’ve become
My honest doubts
Are being called really dumb

If my being an Agnostic
Makes you squirm and turn away
That’s fine, I understand
I wish you blessings as you go your way

If however you must convert me
Ask first have any of my journey thee understood
And do you recognise in all the turmoil
Good men of faith who acted not as they should

I get it.
I wish I didn't.
Some good writing going on here.
Enjoyment.

Wok Around the Clock

The Wok must got on
Little souls might get stir fried
But the Wok must go on
Put common sauce to one side

The devil is in the kitchen
He's trying to destroy the wok
Yielding to his tempting morsels
Can be forgiven like key in lock

If the kids get food poisoning
Because Uncle is a rotten cook
Cover it up with a curry hurry
And let not anyone ask or look


Those adding foreign spices
From the wok will be expelled
The kitchen must remain clean and white
This recipe is firmly held

They that abandon the wok
Who find the heat to much to bare
Will be labeled, bitter quitters
And not for the wok to care

So the wok it goes on and on
Taste and you shall receive
And for the stir fried little souls
The wok it does not grieve