Preaching the News
The world is filled with anger,
there are oaths and imprecations
wailing and lamentations.
It will get real, and realer still,
But hold on to your hat
because that's not where it's at.
Imagine now the rampaging of
the pitbull people, pulling
the church down by its steeple.
Holly rollers, rolling
rock of ages cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in thee.
"The meek shall inherit nothing."
They have no soul, having sold
it for a mess of pottage, that being
the sorry notion that believing
in Jesus, Allah, Yahweh etcetera
Will let you off the hook and
excuse you from doing the real work
of living this life and saving the world.
To save your soul, you must first save the world.
That's the word, that's the news,
Nothing to rejoice in, you, in your
insipid stupidity, thinking you've got it
made because you can recite
chapter and verse, scripture,
and for the rapture you rehearse,
floating up to heaven, fiery
chariot and all, in the thrall
of fairy tales and zombie frails.
If there were a God, he'd be terribly
miffed at the mess we've made,
the waste we've laid, to this Eden,
this Paradise, this grand creation.
Your beliefs, you Christians,
you Musselmen, you Jews,
are a lazy man's dumb show,
a calumnist's charade,
a dunces' parade.
Shame on you. You
have no self-respect,
no decency, no courtesy.
You're creeping out the world.
Gives us a break, take your
religion and go far away.
You do no good for nobody
with your presumptions,
your superstitions and
your egotistical surmises.
Lordy, you're in for some surprises.