Home » Poems » Dominique Webb » Not Findable, Not There, Not True

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.

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