Oh Lord in Heaven that made the Earth,
The Eurovision Song Contest for what it's worth.
The Galaxy of Stars that alight the sky,
Our valued Creatures, but not the Fly.
Grant me strength to bear the sight,
Of ridiculous Man Buns day and night:
Sandals, Piercings, Tattooed necks,
The latest news about Posh and Becks.
Abolish War our ultimate aim,
It's bad enough in Video Games.
End the Famine, the Third World's fate,
And stop the Rich from gaining Weight.
Give the Homeless a House to share,
Now Andy Windsor's standing spare.
And top it off, I may be bold,
Please look upon a simple Soul,
When Females see me By and By-
I'm Jason Statham in their eyes.
Ahhhhhmen.
-
Author:
Kevin Hulme (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 10th, 2026 20:37
- Comment from author about the poem: Now Hyme 143: The Impossible Dream.
- Category: Humor
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments4
All granted, my Son.
(You have about the same chance with me....)
I'll have you know I used to be a Model: Admittedly it was for Toby Jugs but that's neither here nor there. Thank you for Reading.
A great poetic prayer that if Mark Twain was alive would agree with and applaud. Loved the sarcasm, cynicism and general humor as well as the flow and rhyme a fave for me
Mark Twain! Thanks . And thanks for the Read and Fave.
You are most welcome Kevin.
\"“O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle — be Thou near them! With them — in spirit — we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it — for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.\" Mark Twain The war prayer 1904-05
Wow. That has such a Punch. And timeless. Thanks for sending that in .
Most welcome
That last line made me lol. Nicely done.
Yes rather Statham than George Formby.
Thank you for Reading.
Tremendous.
Thank you.
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