More poetry

I fear for them,
I really do,
the Mormons,
trapped,
in the dream of Joseph Smith.

But that wicked dreamer is dead.
So how will those trapped in his dream, escape?

For it is written, 'what of the dream, when the dreamer dies?'
For how can they escape the wicked man's lies?

Some exmo poetry

It's here, at last! A little exmo poetry.

Mormonism, is like a distant thunder,
awaiting the destructive power,
the wind,
the rain,
the family washed away. Gone.