Sunday, January 9, 2011

On my Battles with Religious Folk


Little Lamb hung a millstone
'Round one of the Father's Little Ones
Weighted her down
Flung her into the sea
Washed the grime of corruption
From her fine white Christian fleece
And went on her way
Never looking back to make sure
The Little One had drowned

Little Lamb cried of hunger and starvation
Of not being fed at the banquet table
The minions believed
Little Lamb held sway
The feast prepared was bit by bit swept away
Left behind in confusion
The Unworthy sought for crumbs
But Little Lamb had gathered them
Every last one
No loaves and fishes miracles
No multitudes were fed
A void remains
Painfully constrained
Within a roof and four walls

Little Lamb went her staunch, unyielding way
Destruction in her wake
Believing in her ways and her ways alone
Walking the walk and talking the talk
Sweet, pretty poison in a sweet, pretty package
A creature to fear, a creature to run from
Coldly deciding who is saved and who is not

The minions still believe
Little Lamb holds sway
And where is God found
In the face of this injustice?
All around
Weeping at the cruelty
Shown one Christian by another

In the name of the Son
They attack and wound
Then murder the souls
Of those perceived as weak
Survival of the worthiest
Christian Darwinism
Who says they don't believe in

Murderous Little Lamb
Yearns for the martyr's death
Thinks it's her Golden Ticket into Heaven
The one she tried to kill cannot --
Nay, will not -- oblige her
She's one who isn't worth
The price to be paid
For committing that particular sin

Forgive and walk away, Child
Forgive, but watch your back
Drop that apple and run
Far and fast as you can
For Satan clothes himself
In appealing disguises

CP Warner
1 September 2010
Revised 6 January 2011

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