Tag Archives: atheism

My prayer is a merry laughter


My prayer is a merry laughter
in which I say: “Ha ha! Ha ha!”
I do not care what comes after.
My prayer is a merry laughter.
Life is but a yearning for the hereafter.
A hope to cancel nature’s law.
My prayer is a merry laughter
in which I say: “Ha ha! Ha ha!”

*Painting – “The Young Rembrandt as Democritus the Laughing Philosopher” by Rembrandt, 1629.


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*Nothing needed to assemble nothing church for nobodies


The study of theology is the study of nothing. It is founded in nothing; it rests on no principles; it proceeds by no authorities; it has no data; it can demonstrate nothing; and admits of no conclusion. Thomas Pain

Chicago (AP) – Roy Larson, religion writer for the Chicago Sun-Times, recently had a visitor at the newspaper. Gene Townsend wanted to talk to him about a new church.
“When I introduced myself, I was struck by his lack of enthusiasm. The reason soon became clear,” said Larson.
Their conversation went like this:
“I understand you’re starting a new church.”
“That’s right,” replied Townsend.
“What’s it called?”
“The Church of the Living Apathists.”
“What’s an apathist?”
“Someone who’s apathetic.”
“Why did you ask for the religion writer?” Larson asked.
“Because we’re religious apathists. We’re apathetic about religion. If we were apathetic about sports, I would have asked for the sports writer.”
“You said ‘we’. That means you’ve got some cohorts. Right?”
“Have you gotten yourselves organized?”
“We’ve had a few meetings. We’ve got the application blanks to organize as a not-for-profit corporation in Illinois.”
“Do you plan to file them?”
“I don’t know. So far we’ve been too apathetic. Besides, we don’t have an address. Or any money. And we never will.”
“Do you have any scriptures?”
“Yeah. It’s a book filled with blank pages.”
“What’s your chief symbol?”
“It’s a gray rectangle. It symbolizes nothing.”
“Are you the high priest or are there any ministers in your church?”
“A true priest in our faith would be one who wouldn’t show up for meetings.”
“Doesn’t that make you a phony? Why did you bestir yourself to come in and tell me about your new church?” asked Larson.
Townsend said: “I guess you’d have to say I’m not a true believer. I’m a borderline apathist.”
“Why did you come in?”
“I just happened to be walking by the building and decided to stop.”
“Do you plan to call any meetings to get your church under way?”
“We’re thinking about it.”
“How do you rate your chances of success?”
“Great. If we call a meeting, chances are no one will come. And that will mean the meeting is successful.”
“What’s your potential membership?”
“Already, I think 10 per cent of the American people are members. Maybe, it’s 100 per cent.”
“Just one more question. As you see it, what must I do to be saved?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“I see. Well, keep the faith, friend.”
“Thank you. And may the god of emptiness be with you.”

*This article was taken verbatim from “The Southeast Missourian”, January 30th, 1976. See here.

**Painting by Zdislav Beksinski

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I urinate on the Holy Ghost


I urinate on the Holy Ghost.
My golden rain he loves the most.
For godly things I have an itch.
This triune god is my bitch.

I urinate on Jesus Christ,
no lesser man would have sufficed.
Your sins, let me wash away,
repent and be baptized today.

I urinate on God the Father
for besides him, there is no other.
Let me shave your white beard off
and in your face then laugh and scoff.

I urinate on the Blessed Virgin
for she was born without a sin.
Would you like to fuck as well
and then promptly go to hell?

I urinate on Lucifer
for it is human – to sin and err.
May all the devils see this sight
in which your star will burn so bright.

I urinate on the muslim prophet
and do this proudly without regret.
Your Allah, too, can suck my cock
24/7 around the clock.

I urinate on all Hindu idols.
In ugliness they have no rivals.
Shiva, Vishnu, Krishna, Ganesh,
from this earth you soon will vanish.

I urinate on Buddhist enlightenment.
It offers nothing but confinement.
I better smoke weed to death
than meditate on my breath.

I urinate on all holy books,
on fanatics and religious crooks.
No godly man is spared this fate
Come and see, before it’s too late.

I urinate on all sacred things,
Be they heroes, gods or kings.
No spirit, deity or rule of law
can force my mind to withdraw.

*Photograph “Piss Christ” by Andres Serrano, 1987.


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Be nice and starve an artist


Be nice and starve an artist.
His life is meaningless.
On air he should subsist
to maintain his success.

Be nice and slay an angel.
His wings are way too big.
Pave his sacred road to hell
and do not care a fig.

Be nice and fuck a virgin.
Her youth won’t last for long.
Caress her hair and touch her skin.
You can do no wrong.

Be nice and throw a preacher
into a lion’s den.
Let lions be his teacher
and not a crowd of men.

Be nice and burn a Bible.
For drivel it contains.
Why bother with such trifle
that keeps your mind in chains.

Be nice and hang a Jesus
into your living room.
His story never ceases
to inspire grief and gloom.

Be nice and waste this hour
if you want to make some strides.
This world is the will to power
and nothing else besides!

*Painting “Martyr on a circus ring” by Fyodor Bronnikov, 1869.

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What peace and blessings without a god

Portrait de Voltaire (Francois Marie Arouet dit, 1694-1778) tenant l'annee litteraire. Peinture de Jacques-Augustin-Catherine Pajou (1766-1828), 18eme siecle. Paris, Comedie Francaise

What peace and blessings without a god.
To be human is to be flawed.
In my mistakes I rejoice,
for happiness is all by choice.

What love and meaning without a deity.
I celebrate myself with gaiety.
My heart is filled with joy and peace
for I know all this will cease.

What happiness without god’s grace.
I have no shadows to embrace.
Freedom – such a precious thing.
To only her my soul will sing.

What wisdom without creeds, beliefs.
No gods and spirits my mind conceives.
In all the temples and sacred churches
I haven’t found anything to purchase.

What clarity without religious notions.
Let us speak without emotions.
I cleanse my tongue from god’s good word
and all that’s foolish and absurd.

*Painting “Portrait of Voltaire” by Jacques Augustin Catherine Pajou

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If God exists, then where he hides?


If God exists, then where he hides?
In the center or to the sides?
High up above or down below?
This no one seems to know.

Explain what does your god mean,
how he differs from things not seen?
Can you produce one bit of evidence
beyond that of mere pretense?

Quoting scriptures won’t change my mind.
No proof of god in these I find.
I do not trust in your anecdotes
and neither in your stories, quotes.

All this religious business
stands in a way of progress.
All faith is out of season,
beyond all thought and reason.

Hence, my friends, it is now clear,
All this to me seems very queer.
Let children play with their gods
but to me it makes no odds.

*Painting – “John Brown reading his Bible”, by Horace Pippin, 1942.


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I am proud to be an atheist


I am proud to be an atheist.
Faith, religion I resist.
No gods can sway me in their lanes.
I am free. I’ve lost my chains.

I am proud to be an atheist.
Gods and deities I never missed.
My time I spend on other things,
whatever my tomorrow brings.

I am proud to be an atheist.
The feet of Christ I never kissed.
My mouth will never touch this dirt
that has left so many hurt.

I am proud to be an atheist.
But in what does my faith consist?
Let me answer you this way:
the time of faith has passed away.

I am proud to be an atheist.
I hope to dissipate all godly mist.
Will you help and lend your hand,
together we can clean this land.

I am proud to be an atheist.
At all the gods I’ll shake my fist.
Fear not their empty futile threats,
for deity always fails, forgets.

I am proud to be an atheist.
For gods do not exist.
Of this I am sure and certain
that no one lurks behind the curtain.

I am proud to be an atheist.
From my life gods are dismissed.
Please do not pray for my poor soul,
for I am happy as a whole.


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In his heart the fool will say

the-fool-1904-1 (1)

In his heart the fool will say:
There is a heaven and a god.
Instead of learning he will pray,
meditate and cry aloud.

These filthy little believing beasts
who spread their poison in our midst.
All you prophets, preachers, priests:
You have no right to live, exist.

All you mystics, seekers, saints
who corrupt the youthful minds.
What evils, crimes and moral taints,
in your presence one often finds.

You call your Lord in times of trouble
and you beg for his saving grace.
You’ve been living in one big bubble
shielded from your own true face.

You say that you enjoy god’s bliss
and that you have felt his touch.
What kind of nonsense is this?
Your pretty words do not mean much.

You think that God is by your side
and watches over your every move.
You hold this fancy for your guide
but all this you cannot prove.

You claim that God is beyond reason
and yet your mind is never still.
Beliefs and dogmas are your prison
that you have built at your own will.

*Painting – “The Fool” by Pablo Picasso, 1904.


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Some people say their dreams out loud


Some people say their dreams out loud
but I prefer them to enshroud
in darkness, rain, storm and cloud,
with my strength and might endowed.

Some people yearn for gods, spirits
but I prefer my mind and wits.
No exceptions my rule admits.
In my soul no deity fits.

Some people search for happiness
but I prefer to digress
from all the honor and success
to a place with no address.

Some people crave for love and sense
but I prefer to dispense
with such pride and pretense
at my own risk and expense.

Some people want to be great
but I prefer my own fate.
For better days I cannot wait.
To live today – it is too late.

*Painting “Dream of Icarus” by Sergey Solomko


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Please help me God to live without you


Please help me God to live without you.
Make me a better atheist.
Help me find that inner strength and value
that allows my error to persist.

Please help me God to ignore your commandments.
Make me a sinner and not a saint.
Help me to numb my moral sense.
Help me to live without restraint.

Please help me God to find my own way
without your guidance or assistance.
Help me to make it through this day
and keep your angels at a distance.

Please help me God to curse your name.
Strengthen my will to blaspheme.
Help me to remember and proclaim
the paths that go against the stream.

Please help me God to prove your non-existence.
Furnish my mind with arguments.
Help me to awaken people from this trance
and to discourage their pretense.

Please help me God to burn in hell.
Help me to eradicate your shadow.
Let me break away from your spell
and deal your ghost the final blow.

Please help me God to diminish your flock.
Make me a selfish egotist.
Allow me to administer the shock
and show that You do not exist.

*About the accompanying image for this poem


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I don’t need no prose or art


I don’t need no prose or art
in which to soothe my drained heart.
Many fools have appeared smart –
be it Plato or Descartes.

I don’t need no words of praise
to set my tender mind ablaze.
A sly remark or a witty phrase
can lull my soul into sleep for days.

I don’t need no gods or saints
who would hear out my complaints.
I live my life without restraints,
despite my faults and my taints.

I don’t need no hopes or dreams
to know it’s more than what it seems.
The Moon has its secrets as Sun has its beams,
I walk the line between these two extremes.

I don’t need no love or trust
to feel vibrant and robust.
Within each flame, there reigns a frost.
When fire ends, what else is lost?

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Dear no one in heaven


Dear no one in heaven,
Silence is thy name.
Your kingdom is nothing.
Your will is nothing.
On earth and on heaven, it is nothing.
Give us this day our daily nothing,
And forgive us nothing
As we also have forgiven nothing to you.
And lead us into nothingness
And spare us from our dreams of existence
For Thine is the silence, the void and the abyss,
Forever and ever.


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My shallow well is very deep


My shallow well is very deep.
My narrow path is very wide.
I live this life in my sleep
and hold to nothing as my guide.

My feeble will is very strong.
My foolish thoughts are very wise.
In my beliefs I am never wrong.
I use the truth as a disguise.

My silent voice is very laud.
My anxious heart is very brave.
Of past mistakes I am always proud.
My road to hell I daily pave.

My evil deeds are very kind.
My silly words are very shrewd.
Into the light I lead the blind,
not to enlighten but to delude.

My godless mind is very pious.
My unclean soul is very pure.
I am free from prejudice and bias.
In all I do I feel secure.

My false views are very true.
My clouded senses are very clear.
To all the gods I say: Adieu!
Goodbye to faith and the religious sphere.


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When I became convinced*


When I became convinced that the universe was natural,
That all the ghosts and gods were myths,
There entered into my brain, into my soul, into every drop of my blood,
The sense, the feeling, the joy of freedom.
The walls of my prison crumbled and fell.
The dungeon was flooded with light
And all the bolts and bars and manacles turned to dust.
I was no longer a servant, a serf, or a slave.
There was for me no master in all the wide world, not even in infinite space.
I was free to think.
Free to express my thoughts,
Free to live in my own ideal.
Free to live for myself, and those I loved.
Free to use all my faculties, all my senses.
Free to spread imagination’s wings,
Free to investigate, to guess, and dream and hope.
Free to judge and determine for myself.
Free to reject all ignorant and cruel creeds,
All the inspired books that savages have produced,
And the barbarous legends of the past.
Free from sanctified mistakes and “holy” lies.
Free from the fear of eternal pain,
Free from the winged monsters of the night.
Free from devils, ghosts and gods.
For the first time I was free.
There were no prohibited places in all of the realm of thought.
No error, no space where fancy could not spread her painted wings.
No chains for my limbs.
No lashes for my back.
No flames for my flesh.
No Master’s frown or threat,
No following in another’s steps.
No need to bow or cringe or crawl, or utter lying words.
I was free; I stood erect and fearlessly, joyously faced all worlds.
My heart was filled with gratitude, with thankfulness,
And went out in love to all the heroes, the thinkers who gave their lives
For liberty of hand and brain,
For the freedom of labor and thought to those who fell
On the fierce fields of war.
To those who died in dungeons, bound in chains,
To those by fire consumed,
To all the wise, the good, the brave of every land
Whose thoughts and deeds have given freedom to the sons of men.
And then, I vowed to grasp the torch that they held, and hold it high,
That light might conquer darkness still.

*These tremendous words were written by Robert Green Ingersoll


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Worship me, my humble god


Worship me, my humble god
as your draw your last breath.
I’ll walk the path that is broad
and celebrate your lonesome death.

Worship me, my humble angel
and watch the glory of my life.
To wickedness be no stranger
but stay away from war and strife.

Worship me, my humble goddess
under the covers of my bed.
Every law we shall transgress
until we both are lying dead.

Worship me, my humble saviour
from the debris of this mess.
All my thoughts and my behaviour
shape the world that I possess.

Worship me, my humble lord
with every fiber of your being.
From all my heart I say this word:
Please disappear and leave.

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So little of my life is spent


So little of my life is spent
in finding out what all this meant.
My rule of life is my own bent,
I have no sins to repent.

So little of my path is known.
No fate is carved in rock or stone.
From a little seed a tree is grown,
On this journey I embark alone.

So little of my time is used
in matters clear and not confused.
In front of nothing I am bemused,
my ignorance can be excused.

So little of my heart is warm,
I consider this to be the norm.
I love all change but not reform.
In my glass there reigns a storm.

So little of my work is done
amidst the noise and all the fun.
Of sacred gods I will have none,
I will crush them one by one.


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No more gods my mouth will praise


No more gods my mouth will praise,
All these ghosts I will erase.
Show me deities that you embrace,
All these dreams I will debase.

No more visions my eyes will see.
From superstitions I am free.
The death of gods I do foresee.
From my life all ghosts will flee.

No more mysteries my mind will find,
All these ghosts I have left behind.
The gods I saw when I was blind,
my deeds were evil when I was kind.

No more shadows my hands will touch,
I will walk without a crutch.
Bearded saints, gods and such,
these things I do not value much.

No more prayers I will say,
your pious whims I do not obey.
From narrow path I’ll turn away,
not tomorrow but today.

No more demons my heart will fear,
To no ghosts I will adhere.
To hell with lies, let’s be sincere.
Gods are gone and that is clear.

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Let me drink my cup of wine


Let me drink my cup of wine
and throw my pearls before the swine.
All these evil deeds of mine
will greatly please the Divine.

Let me worship little devils
and get my pleasures and my thrills.
I will run through seas and hills
in search for shudders and lovely chills.

Let me deny the holy ghost
drink my wine and propose a toast:
Let’s raise our glasses to our host,
these evil thoughts we fear the most.

Let me say this one more time
my hands are clean, I’ve done no crime.
I do not care a single dime
about the truth and the sublime.

Let me add just one more thing
there is no light a night could bring.
Into the world I have to swing
not step by step but at one full fling.


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Where is that god who took my sins


Where is that god who took my sins
and left the world without a trace?
The thread of life, does he it spins
through a fleeting hour and eternal space?

Who is that man who hangs on a cross?
Who finds beauty in his disgrace?
There is no triumph in a loss,
having no one to embrace.

Where hides your God, almighty father,
in this tiny universe?
Show no fear! Why would you bother
in front of phantoms so diverse?

Notice how the deity hides
within the scientific gaps.
Is this the place where god abides
to avoid my wise and cunning traps?

Oh, yee gods, where are you now?
Where are your feats and mighty wonders?
How much more will you allow
before I hear your silent thunders?



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Glory be to thee my void


Glory be to thee my void
In every second of my days.
Let the gods be destroyed
And all their arcane, secret ways.

Ask for evidence and reasons,
Avoid all myths and fairytales.
Thus your soul and your horizons
Will spot the devil in details.

Allow your mind to notice
All those who live with psychosis.
These mystics, saints and little gods
Are nothing but charlatans and frauds.

Rouse your reason from its slumber.
Keep the gods away from you.
Every god is a human blunder
That hides away all that’s true.

Embrace the world devoid of meaning.
Purify your clouded senses.
Seeing never was believing,
nor was it keeping up pretenses.



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