SUNDAY POEM

I love the idea of religion

but not like you love

the pipes that carry waste

away under your house

unseen unfelt but useful.

I'm not inclined to the major decision

i'm ok with the loftier vision,

but everything about religion:

the bland respect

God expects

the laying of hands

the muting of liberated glands,

teacakes and tea

the tedium of service

the endless pleading for funds

too much harnessing of genuine mistakes

for conversion

harnessing of souls for salvation

seem to bring you down to earth

with a bang,     yes like that.

 

      Could it be that humans

      are not really up to that?

         too many rules to follow

      too much fear of rules broken

like the pipes

something nasty leaking out

to ruin the ground we walk on

and stain the sense of who we are

and what we can never be?

 

Looking to skies and the buttercup

doesn't seem enough

 

and i've got no chance with eternity.

religious meaning

◄ THE GREEN GREEN GRASS AT DORTMUND

YOURS WAS THE FACE ►

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