Jesus answered and said to him,
Most assuredly, I say to you, unless one is born again,
he cannot see the kingdom of God.

Be born again. It’s not too late
Until your corpse is locked away.
The mourners all will lie for you,
but God shall have the final say.

His message does not please the mind,
Much less the pride of  arrogant men;
And women share the guilt. It’s true;
We’re in this all together, then . . .

Therefore one must obey the Lord.
We live each day upon the brink—
The soul is dead since Eden’s fall
And hell is closer than you think.

Reincarnation is a lie.
Those good intentions seal your fate.
I’m sorry Mr. BJP,
You too, must enter at Christ’s gate.

No Abrahamic new age gods
Have power to lead the world to life.
Vague revelations in a cave
Have only furthered violent strife.

Therefore be born-again. It’s late.
Earth’s bar is closing; drink or leave.
It’s not my idea nor your choice:
Heed heaven’s command: with faith, BELIEVE.

PROMPT #19: write a poem that starts with a command 

1. 1.  because they would have to admit they had been wrong

   2.  their universe would no longer be a nihilistic proposition

   3.  intellectual pride is a powerful obstacle

   4.  their esthetic values would be suddenly and radically altered

   5.  a smug sense of superiority is hard to relinquish after so many years

PROMPT #18:

write your own poem that provides five answers to the same question –
without ever specifically identifying the question that is being answered.

I have known some dogs.

Inevitably though, they

Eat death… roll in shit.

PROMPT: think about dogs you have known, seen, or heard about, and then use them as a springboard into wherever they take you.

Presbyterians, prudently invested
Their faith and their doctrine uncontested

Live for days of God-knows-what.

Ever predictably not offending
Maintaining stability, while sending

Children to the proper schools.

So far removed from Luther, Calvin, Knox
That Reformation grace holds up their socks.

They read Tim Keller’s books and aim to please
And sometimes even pray upon their knees,

Smiling blandly, heeding rules.

Presbyterians have milquetoast in the soul
Which keeps God’s passion under their control

While waiting for Lord-knows-what.