Pslams 34:14

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I am a time traveller, sent forward in time to apologise for the early misreading of what was meant to be a work of entertainment. The Bible. Intially, this was merely a fiction work, but somehow the weak have turned it into first, a crutch, then a religion, and these days a business. I've been sent to put the record straight.

Submitted: April 02, 2007

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Submitted: April 02, 2007

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I come, sent from ancient times gone,

I come to apologise for mistakes that were made.

I'm sent here, with sackcloth and ash,

On behalf of humanity, both present and past.

My duty it is, to inform you all now,

That book that you worship,

Will send you to Hell.

You see, it's only entertainment,

No meaning was meant,

No need to restrict yourselves,

No need to repent.

In each and all of the wars that you fought,

You used the name of religion as an afterthought.

Well, in the past looking in, this makes us all sick,

This fictional work, is of pure amusement.

The stories it tells, the ideas that it sells,

Are just a big joke, to be left on the shelves.

Now in this day and age, theres coffee and cocaine,

Alcohol and cigarettes, any drug you can name,

But it all started off, with a few simple men,

Not knowing to which crutch they should turn,

With their distaste for beer, and opiates too,

They did what any drug user would do.

Just taking the words, like some alpha male,

They can govern your life,

Till Iscariot's bread and wine has gone stale.

Now. Switch to the present, enough on the past,

This book is now used, to make reverends some cash,

As the biggest property owner,

In the known Western world, it takes all that money

To keep churches in bells.

Not forgetting the lawsuits from unhappy flocks,

When the vicars and priests,

Get loose with their cocks.

I must warn you now, don't take His name in vain,

Or the collection plate mafia, will be making you pay.

Now, although this book was fictional,

It's gone somewhat awry,

That you kneel on your floors, looking up to the sky.

Talking to someone, who just isn't there,

Who'll grant all your wishes if you start a war,

To summarise I think, I should end with a quote,

It's mine of course, the words that I wrote.

 All in all a sad state of affairs, when the only thing wrong with the world,

Is that religion of theirs.


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