Hell Poems

Just What the Hell is “Hell?”
by Gary Amirault

There once was a time, ’twas plain to see
Just what the hell, Hell was meant to be.
But then theologians got into the act
And Hell no longer was a simple fact.

Hell formerly was a dark hidden space
Imperceivable, covered, a true hiding place.
It could be a place, as crude as a shed
Or could be a helmet, to cover your head.

Smoochers and kissers oft needed a hell
For hidden in darkness, no one could tell.
Hall, hole, and hull come from the same root
Along with a heel covered with a boot.

“Too simple!” So theologians once said
And now from their scheming, confusion has spread.
They hired the Dantes and Michaelangelos
To paint pretty pictures of many great woes

Fire and torment, with much superstition
Was added to pagan mythology and fiction.
The Goddess of Hel from Norse mythology
Became Satan, hero of most eschatology.

Jesus the Savior, delivered mankind
He came not for few, but for ALL men to find.
His portion became a rather small lot
While most of mankind, in Hell-fire would rot.

The way to this Hell became broad and wide
The gift of God’s grace was at its low tide.
Clothes, creeds and days, the right denomination
Became the sole means, the way to salvation.

Gehenna, Hades, Tartaroo, and Sheol
All became places that could swallow your soul.
Preachers now had us, right where they wanted
“Obey or to Hell with you” they often taunted.

Countless denominations of devilish preachers
Forsook the Gift and became Satan’s teachers.
Thousands of ways of deliverance from “Hell”
In common they all have a self-righteous smell.

“Finished” He cried, “I will draw all mankind”
The Father’s desire, “all saved” in His mind.
The task He was given, He accomplished it all
And as His witness, He commissioned St. Paul.

Paul’s Gospel was different, it’s easy to tell
Because never once did he use the word “hell.”
So “hell” is no more, it’s becoming a bore
It’s taking its place along with common folklore.

Punish he will, for our Father is just
In age-long correction, you surely can trust.
On vindictive torment our Father’s not bent
Mercy will, yes! triumph over judgment.

Oh, Hell
by James Whitcomb Reilly

Oh Hell–just what is meant by this word Hell.
They say sometimes it’s cold as Hell,
Sometimes they say it’s hot as Hell.
When it rains they say it’s Hell they cry,
And it’s Hell when it’s dry.

They hate like Hell to see it snow,
It’s a Hell of a wind when it starts to blow.
Now how in the world can anyone tell,
What in the Hell they mean by this word Hell.

This mad life is Hell they say,
When he comes in late, there’s Hell to pay.
When she starts to yell it’s a Hell of a note,
And it’s Hell when the kids you have to tote.

It’s Hell when the doctor sends you his bills,
For a Hell of a lot of trips and pills.
And when you get this you will know real well,
Just what is meant by this word Hell.

Hell yes, Hell no, and oh Hell too,
The Hell you don’t and the Hell you do.
And what Hell of a Hell it is,
The Hell with yours and the Hell with His.

Now where in the Hell and oh Hell where,
And what the Hell do you think I care.
But the Hell of it is it’s sure as Hell,
That we don’t know what in the Hell is Hell.