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Stick needles in our arms race with a weapon of compliance
To warp your soul and kill us quickly at the speed of science; Stick needles in our arms race with a weapon of compliance To warp your soul and make a killing in the field of science.
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Young people are trying to live out a worldview that does not match their true nature, and it is tearing them apart with its pain and heartache. --Nancy Pearcey, Love Thy Body My anger–raging estrogen
Of woman buried deep within This man, offended once again– Is loosed like lions to defend A castle built on pronoun sand, My pride parading to demand A co-pay and the lion’s share Of rights, insured affirming care That makes my manhood disappear. O Doctor, castrate, cut some more; Physician, heal me, I implore, For I am woman, hear me roar. Lord Jesus, make it plain the way to go,
To die to self and love our children, so They see that life is never gain until We die with you. And when the flesh is still And cold consumes our daily deaths' decay, We rise again to walk upon the way Of life, and put on immortality To show them more than they could see With eyes, a dying-rising paradigm That has no end until the end of time. Koop and Schaeffer write, Today the view that man is a product of chance in an impersonal universe dominates both sides of the Iron Curtain. This has resulted in a secularized society and in a liberal theology in much of the church; that is, the Bible is set aside and humanism in some form (man starting from himself) is put in the Bible's place. Much of the church no longer holds that the Bible is God's Word in all it teaches. It simply blends with the current thought-forms rather than being "salt" that judges and preserves the life of its culture. Unhappily, this portion of the church simply changes its standards as the secular, humanist standards sweep on from one loss of humanness to the next. What we are watching is the natural result of humanism in its secular and theological forms, and the human race is being increasingly devalued. Whatever Happened to the Human Race in vol. 5 The Complete Works of Francis A. Schaeffer. Crossway Books, pg. 285. (emphasis mine)
Think of mothers who express the idea of "personal rights" by having dragged piecemeal from their wombs the child they have conceived. Koop & Schaeffer, Whatever Happened to the Human Race? in vol. 5 The Complete Works of Francis A. Schaeffer. p. 319 We hear their screams, a billion baby shrieks--
Much sharper than the scalpel and syringe That tore them limb from limb--in unison Against dismembered dreams to be a son Or daughter, not a death-cult casualty: "O Mommy, why hast thou forsaken me?" Praise Him, all you unbelievers,
Feasting on His common grace; Praise Him, all you hungry sinners; Taste the Kingdom, come in haste! Praise Him, all you wide receivers Of the passing food, and taste; Praise Him, all you native pilgrims; Taste the Kingdom come, in haste! By existentialism refracted by a prism,
They steal the sign of Noah's covenant; Their god postmodernism, divorcing in a schism The God of Light, refracts but filament; A baptized humanism, a holy Freudianism, They’re serving sex, the Homo sacrament; Progressive Darwinism, the fittest feminism, They are the rainbow church effeminate. Where can I find a wardrobe of my own,
A doorway in this world to worlds beyond, To places known by such as these? The child I was could there a while in peace abscond From corners harder, firmer, and more wild To dreams more true than all the restless wars That plague this grown-up heart of mine With wounds and work, the tiresome daily toils, Where coldness comes defining wintertime And from the light its soul in fear recoils As if to not be overcome. And I, A shadow of that dying little boy, In need of Lucy with her cordial strong, Am lacking nothing needed but the joy Of living, being right where I belong. O Aslan, will you call again to me And bring to life the deadness of my mind, That I, this disenchanted man, may know The deeper pleasures of a place more kind And good? Make me to deeper Narnia go. They came and captured me like a captured agency
And showed me where the needle goes; my side effect Was nothing but a sign that all was working fine, They said. Why would they lie to cover their neglect? I'm mounting a response with every swelling cell Inside my chest, each fiber of my captured heart; I've learned to love the pain of making death my gain, I say. If only they had told me from the start. I’m fit to rage against the Beast–its marks the vax and mask–
To love my neighbor as myself by taking him to task. He claims we Christians must submit to Biden’s every yawn, Obeying every dictate from this Beast of Babylon– To render unto Caesar everything that he requires– Our children’s health, diminished wealth, the silencing of choirs. We should not talk or take communion, should not shake a hand, And must get vaccinated at the sound of his command. We must submit like Paul declared so we don’t compromise Our gospel witness as we bow to governmental lies. But I don’t see the point in joining Babel’s cult of death– Injecting pharmaceuticals with every bated breath– To save me from a planned “pandemic” that was made to be The crisis that would force on us an EUA “vaccine,” Despite the sudden deaths it causes as the rest it maims, Making me the fittest to survive in Darwin’s games. If that makes me a Darwinist, dissent will modify To be the factor making fit when I do not comply, To be the factor causing fits when I do not comply. |
writer
Michael Price - I am a husband, father, poet, and science teacher at a classical Christian school in Memphis, TN. I have three volumes of poetry. 
New book available now!
Dissent with Modification: Poems Against COVIDism, Darwinism, and Wokeism 
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