Critical Analysis #1 |
Piss Poor Preaching. |
YeshuJah Malikk Member
since 2000-06-29
Posts 263 |
He was at it again. Trying to get me to the altar of the Lord.. as if me stepping up there would be some sort of crown jewel above his intended white robe. "Jeeeesus done died for your sins! And sitteth on the right hand of the Father! Lord, help me now! I'm pleading for these souls! Can I get a witness?" "**** you," I mumble in irreverent silence. This **** had been going on for the last hour or so, and I was only still there on account of Ma. It was the tenth anniversary of my father's death and every year she would invite me to come to church with her, and get to crying if I said no. The Reverent worked his way around the podium to the aisle to stalk the 'lost sheep' as he liked to call those of us who'd resisted him so far. "Sing with me choir! Satan I command you, in the name of Jeeesus Christ of Nazareth! Let God's children go!" -Satan had to have a sense of humor, this dude was for sure a clown- "A-la-la-shamba, sho-lung-gon-basha!" He prances around as if on hot coals, doing the tongues thing. I could not for the life of me understand how seemingly sane people could subject themselves to this charlatan. I stared him dead in the eye, the sweat beaded from his forehead like a tackle in a Florida summer's heat. Ma was busy praying and hollering-- every time this happened I couldn't help but think that Ma and the preacher were ganging up on me-- now he quivers and shudders on the floor like the '74 Caddi still in my dad's garage, all the while yelling: "Jeeesus! Jeeesus! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!" Before my open insult to him at my sister's wedding, I used to leave before these ridiculous displays to spare us both the trouble. I mostly enjoyed the singing from the choir, the organist and I go way back, but the preaching could go piss up a stick. Mama said it was the devil in me running away, and that if I stayed, the hand of the lord would surely come upon me. So now I stayed, not about to have this idiot enjoy one more gloat than he deserved. I'd already won all five of these 'laying on of hands' fiascoes since then, so today I could tell the brethren would be in for the long haul. But old Bessie fainted- as if on cue, in answer perhaps, to the more sincere prayer of some poor soul dying to leave. This time him and Jesus gave in to the the wail of rescue sirens and the general shift of the congregant's mindset. Besides, Bessie went too far back to be bucked- even by threats of Jesus. |
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Not A Poet Member Elite
since 1999-11-03
Posts 3885Oklahoma, USA |
Hey Yesh, You've done it again I like this one. It seems awfully prosey but I like it. Yep, there are just too many of these guys out there, giving religion a bad name. You described him quite well. The scene was laid out as if for a stage play. In fact, I think you could probably expand it into a one-acter with a little effort. Now, with that said, I have a couple of suggestions. You have used common language but not a dialect so I found a couple of small errors (nit picking I know but I have to do something ) So here goes. First stanza . . . I would end the first line with a comma instead of a period and the second line has two periods at the end (typo). In the third line, me should be my. Third stanza . . . Reverent should be reverend. Last stanza . . . In the first line, him should be he. As I said, these were pretty small complaints and, of course, you may not agree with them and you are the author. Very nice work here. It is certainly one of my favorites of your writings. Pete Imagination is more important than knowledge Albert Einstein |
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YeshuJah Malikk Member
since 2000-06-29
Posts 263 |
Thanks Pete, I had fun writing this. Your corrections are on the money. I'll make those changes. I did struggle with the length, but felt as that if I excluded any of it, it would be difficult to justify so much here. A one-acter? Something to think about. Again, thank you. |
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