Thread: Sacred Sister Precariously Perched upon a Pedestal

He's got her up on a porcelain pedestal,
her superb superiority
evidenced by indented knees
perpetually bent
in mock supplication.
Yet, he can't see
she's no better than we,
gaping cracks
escape his observation.

She's of no caliber
sporting a bosom as barren
as an empty chamber
yet with a muzzle able
to fire bullets forged
by bias and bitter bile.

Six fatherless children
were a source of amusement
for their parents' thumbs down
toward the thermostat
had left her stone toes cold.
She cheered and jeered
as Mama and her spawn
had to pawn
all to survive
somehow making dear sister
more alive.

Self proclaimed reborn servant
sullies meeting house aisles
with her arrogant stomp
as her voice haunts hymns
descrying sin
while her lips and mind
add to the damned's din.

The gospel according to Brute:
Immigrants should be escorted
to the border to be deported
and their festering fetuses aborted
all economic pariahs
disallowed to procreate
no matter religion or race.
(She shows no prejudice as she hates)

Brothers and their wives
doomed to menial work
should be deprived
of life's smallest perks.
No way will she open her pocket,
but remains despicably amicable
to ripping her eye from its socket
instead.

Catty gossip surrounds her
in a noxious cloud,
always whispered, never aloud,
for surely none were as good as she
who worshipped Jesus so fervently.
However stilted her catechism may be,
she brandishes her crucifix justifiably.
In her eyes, and perhaps his,
but the good Lord has no part in this.

Retreat from deceit
in not an option,
prevarication is up
for closed adoption,
can't sully so-called blessed skin
hiding demons lurking within,
as the bill of sale for her soul
is signed with the sighs of fools
she has fooled in her flock.

Her eyes cast down
(as her essence shall be)
in feigned and demure purity,
a veil to keep him unaware
for wool weighted eyes
never dare
to see what's really there:
dug deep within cursed skin
lies Satan's candy coated snare.

Alas, he does not know
as he pushes her pedestal to grow
and soon he'll have her
touch the sky
his blind eyes
wondering why
she shies away from God,
Who does not spoil
nor spare the rod.

His mouth will go south
hanging in disbelief
as she tumbles down
hard hitting hallowed ground
only to be sucked below
for Hell's where sinners go.

One who attempts perjury
before the Lord
will be fairly afforded
infernal room and board.

After years of begging
to be his seeing eye dog,
I won't collect the particles
of hubby's fallout
when the true nature
of his sister
is brought to light
and God plucks her
from His sight.

I sense hostility. Is this based off of anyone?

I must say, when I saw the title I was reminded of Twelfth Night's Viola. "My father had a daughter loved a man... She sat like Patience on a monument." But clearly this has nothing to do with that.

It must have felt good to get this down on paper and bleed a little of the resentment out - very real and hardhitting, and relentless in your excellent wordsmithing - the religious and firearms references interwoven throughout are so effective.
---todd

My sincere thanks to both of you brave souls who took the time to actually finish this lengthy monstrosity and still retained enough kindness in your hearts to comment.

Dear Trides, Hostility, in one of my pieces? Never! lol. Your senses are keen, indeed. I'm happy the title was able to reel you in, sad that you were probably disappointed. A good deal of my pieces are loosely based in one way or another on actual facts. I freely embellish, however, to keep things interesting, but at the core there usually lies a grain of truth. This piece is no exception, and is indeed based upon a person and in that aspect, I've been pretty forthright. Although, I despise phonies of any type, especially when they are able to fool others without breaking a sweat while I watch people get duped. I find it morally offensive to the highest degree. Hope this helps as far as intention goes.


Dear Todd, You are preaching to the choir, dear sir. Oh yes, it felt good alright, bleed is a perfect word for it, too. Been holding this one in for years. I'm relieved it's finally out and has soothed its incessant gnawing at my belly. I'm glad the references worked, really glad. One never knows how things will be received, it's always a crap shoot, no snake eyes this time around, I guess. Real and hardhitting made my day. I truly appreciate the generosity of your words, they mean a great deal coming from you.

Thank you both for sharing a good deal of your precious moments with me, this isn't an easy one to get through for both the content and the length. Truly appreciate your sticking it out.

All my best,
Lisa

I too despise phonies, they can really get to me, especially when you see people around you lapping it up like it's real cream. You did a wonderful job of expressing that here and though I've not met the 'lady' in question, I know the type only too well.

Lisa, your venemous pen strikes again! And as always not without humour.

I can't help but quote your Figures of Speech. Smoooth alliteration.

as her voice haunts hymns

Another one:

hard hitting hallowed ground

in a noxious cloud,
always whispered, never aloud,

Great rhyme!

However false her catechism may be,
she brandishes her crucifix justifiably.
In her eyes, and perhaps his,
but the good Lord has no part in this.

Could you be talking about my staunch Catholic evil step-mother who went to Confession and Church each weekend and acted like the devil all week? I love the last line!

One who attempts perjury
before the Lord
will be fairly afforded
infernal room and board

Ha! Could you be talking about her, again? This is becoming cathardic for me! I finally told her to go to hell in a hand basket.

A pleasure to read. Whew! I feel better now.

Vicious -scathing-"Her eyes cast down" love that part-that is where for me-your poem started picking up momentum ..Running head long to the destruction and demise of the NOT so "Sacred Sister"-I feel totally justified in despising the creation of your pen!.........Oh BTW-you were obviously writing about someone I know who allowed her children to be molested-then dressed them up and showed them off at church-took them home again and turned them over to the molester....Vile covered in velvet...Thanks -Jul

After reading this again-I need to correct myself-your poem has so many brilliant descriptions of the absolute devious nature of the person..I was wrong-your poem HAD momentum from the very beginning..I stand corrected! Sorry-Jul

This was quite a pleasure to read, anyone who has been around a congregation long enough will find someone like the evil she of your poem (though they are all not equally evil). Stanza 9 was incredible by far my favorite section but I have to ask why did you choose to make "never dare" its own line. Its not a criticism I'm just curious since I've read it a few times now and I always manage to read it as part of the above line. I hope this was as cathartic for you as it seems to the reader, fantastic piece!

I would quote the parts I like but what's the point in quoting the whole poem. Eternal praises to your unending viciousness.

I will mention this. One of my favorite parts:

hard hitting hallowed ground
only to be sucked below
for Hell's where sinners go.

One who attempts perjury
before the Lord
will be fairly afforded
infernal room and board

I know quite a few people I feel the same way about. One in particular in fact.

(Cringing as I write this) To me this might come off as a tad hypocritical. I mean to be so condeming of one who is so condeming. So cruel because one is so cruel. Of course, you wouldn't be honest if you, as they say, "let God be the judge" . Not holding true to one's real feelings would be hypocritical as well I suppose. Don't change a thing and don't hate me either. Just giving some room for thought.

I apologize guys, I'm so far behind, computer woes the last few days. Have much to catch on. Will edit this reply asap to reflect individual responses, I just didn't want you all to think me rude. Oh, and Flap, I could never hate anyone for speaking the truth. I stooped, but it felt so darn good. Thanks so much to you all, I know this one went on forever. As Arnold would say, I'll be back, watch this space for the edited reply.

All my best,
Lisa