Tim Minchin's Storm

It's one his best. The creative energy coming from atheists who love to entertain is just awesome.

Rejecting Pareidolia

My mind is inclin'd to give meaning,
and think a rock a cake, for survival's sake

Much of reality confuses, and threatens to blow fuses,
in my brain, and give pain, so it strives simply to remain unslain.

The noble lie of shutting my eye,
is good for those, who don't bother to suppose,

But for me, curiosity is glee,
and deceiving myself: not an option

Elf and faerie may actually be,
flying the Earth around, in a teapot unfound

So I must be picky and choose (win or lose),
what I accept, in regards to concept

Is evidence such a big fence,
against that which is proposed?

Does asking for proof, make me aloof?

You may say that faith is the way, and my mind holds me at bay,
but even if you can say it, can you show it?

by Drafterman of AvC

Ode To A Theist

No gent of true calibre born,

Would seek another's verse to scorn.

But Rhyme and verse are simply ways

we choose,

To deploy the words that we all use

To say the things we want to say,

But say them in a different way.

No whit of mine, nor comely choice,

Can speak more loudly, give more voice

To my abstract feeling of repulsion,

At all religion's sly compulsion to

Force its will on simple folk,

For me, it simply makes me baulk.

I know no gods or lords you see.

For me none-such can ever be.

They're not in my heart, nor in my mind.

No man on earth will ever find

The god you seek and say you love,

To you or anyone else will it ever prove

To be the lord and master you desire;

You're lost my friend in religion's mire.

The mire that takes a pagan story

And twists it with such vain-glory,

Purely for a purpose of their own,

To control in power they alone

Can wield with lies into false belief.

A boon for you, for me a grief.

A grief for me, because I know

Gods don't exist, will never show.

There is no such thing of any kind,

Except belief within your mind,

And in the minds of countless others,

Mothers, Fathers, Sisters, Brothers.

All caught in this paganistic story,

All thinking they will see the glory

Of this thing of no material sort;

This idea alone that you've all bought.

This NOTHING that can never be,

This NOTHING you can never see.

This NOTHING that has never been.

This NOTHING no man's ever seen.

by Lawrey of AvC