Last Exit: Gehenna

1) Be very broad-minded. Take the Broad Road.
(It is paved with good intentions and says Fool’s Gold, can’t miss it)

2) When you see the signs for salvation, declare loudly that you are tolerant and loving and that sin is an outmoded relic of patriarchal religion.

3) Follow the virtue-signals away from the true light towards your own sinful conceit.

4) Deny absolute truth when you get to Philosophy and take the exit toward Esthetics.

5) Stay on the path of least resistance. Celebrate ANYTHING except the God of Scripture.

6) When the road diverges, revile the nationalist R., along with tradition.
Hatefully label your fellow citizens as Racist Nazis until you merge onto Interfaith 666 at Hypocrisyville.

7) Turn repeatedly L. while flattering  yourself that you are progressive and enlightened.

8) Follow the exact same agenda and antichrist values as that of trans-national corporations while telling yourself you are a bold free-thinker “resisting fascism”.

9) Follow the bumper-stickers of the tenured professor in front of you for 59 miles.

10) Your destination is on the Left, but there’s still time to change the road you’re on
(if the Led Zeppelin song ends and you see the people leaving church as reactionary rubes, you have gone too far.)

 

Approx. time to arrive in Hell = 1 lifetime

Alternate routes click HERE

FINAL PROMPT:

a poem in the form of a series of directions describing how a person should get to a particular place.

Great Scot !

https://i0.wp.com/www.luminarium.org/encyclopedia/knoxlarge.jpg

Relighting Presbyterian roots,
God’s forest-fire convolutes…

contentious times burn heterodox.

The catholic cuckoos make their round—
strange fire and popery abound;

Deus Ex Machina winds the clocks.

Let all attend the holy skirl,
an armored tartaned highland whirl

escaping from God’s music box:

a blare of sixteenth-century pipes.
unleashes types on antitypes.
Pure Calvinistic grace unlocks

 the portal’s gate—and, opening wide,
the frightened worldlings peer inside
beholding heaven’s equinox.

We chasten the imploding West
for Bloody Mary’s crimes confessed
(upon the Catholic queen a pox)

but praise the captain of the Kirk
for interplanetary work.

(His enterprising doctrine rocks.)

in the MIX
PROMPT 29: Imagine a window looking into a place or onto a particular scene.

 

Locust-Eaten Lines

Paupers may ask the Lord for wealth
(The Gospel might inflate their hopes)
Protection, blessings, mental health
Beyond what mullahs, rabbis, popes
Offer as guidance through the strife
Within the filthy maze of life.

Others hope He’ll stack their deck:
Bring in those thousand years of peace
One king short of Melchizedek
When nations merge and borders cease
In a prolonged global swoon, like Babel
Partying with Nimrod’s rabble.

Poets ask for Inspiration
Or just a spike in reader-stats;
Gold paid out in revelation
And sudden-death for bureaucrats—
Even the fleeting hope that wit
Might pay for some or all of it.

To sharpen dull poetic gifts
A mustard-seed might be enough,
Until the veil of Maya lifts
exposing the Satanic stuff.
I’d be content with what He brings:
The Restoration of All Things.

Prompt 27

I want to see you there because

I want to walk down to the river . . .

where friendships resume forever

and conversation flows on, after a pause 

of decades, flowing on as light appears . . . 

 

In eternity, a short space of years or lifetimes

is reason to laugh

because it means nothing.

 

If you are not in heaven

when time ends

Heaven will be the less for it.

 

Please be there with me

to resume all things.

lilo

n. a friendship that can lie dormant for years only to pick right back up instantly,
as if no time had passed since you last saw each other.

 
 
IMAGE: Life from Cliff McReynold’s La Jolla Pentych