Get Your Premium Membership

Not Findable, Not There, Not True

If god is there then he should be findable, By yourself, when you think and reason Through rationality using logic graspable With conclusions that can’t be treason Essentially, you think on your own, alone, Beliefs have their right in ownership In individual insights which have a tone For which there is no partnership Alice in Wonderland describes this process Of thought as something each one takes, As something not questioned unless You’re retracing your steps for stakes So you should be able to work it out For yourself, whether the gospel is true, Because born agains claim without doubt That your friend for faith has a clue They pride on evangelism, telling others, It’s the crux of their posture and stance, But why are people so vital, proclaimers When you should just be able to glance So long as people are in the equation So long as brothers make services The gospel won’t stand, the invitation Won’t ring true to my mind’s crevices The gospel was coined by John Calvin He said it was for anyone to have and find In the seventeenth century he did let in Anyone to hype themselves up and wind After I blasphemed, I was hounded By the person I’d confided in first That I’d followed Jesus and repented: She had to let me out again, must! So the truth about religion, this stands: Is there are people relationships in all, For every Christian, for any clergy’s hands Everything comes back to people tall It starts with another person, ends also, Someone placed that bible you read Someone sang loudly, showed torso Someone voiced that hardship bed Christians are so positional, so sure, Take opportunities, risks even stout And I think their motto and their lure Is a fluid organisation, they’re not out They believe in fluid church structures That the church is managed with skill That group discussions and prayers Light the road ahead that won’t till So don’t believe the gospel or faith, If you only read the bible yourself, Because even it has a printer to chase, For the truth of its form and stealth. Don’t just think that things happen, For no reason, ‘cos there’s a person For every thought, event or garden, And there’s a reason for a convulsion. ‘Cos your own private thoughts abide, As yours and only yours to enjoy, And it’s by them that we know inside, What beliefs to posit and employ. If you can’t get there on your own, Then there must be no gospel, faith, Just a theology of lies that are sown, By people who want in you to bathe.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 1/24/2016 5:59:00 PM
Very nice Rhoda, no one but "you" can take you down that path. Thanks.
Login to Reply

Book: Shattered Sighs