One Holy Mess
The human race speaks of a faraway place called heaven
no doubt there, they’ll breathe easy knowing some still care,
yet to flee from incarnation’s mask, anxious tears so many have to share,
for while we have but a limited time here,
hunger for and pay homage to that eminent gig in the sky,
if only to await one’s promise after a lifetime able to turn
to glance upon the earth, the colour clear, tainted with the blood
of those whom in his name die.
Is it written that evil would survive in many forms
power to wield when humanity spawned
to become a collection of wretched emotions here in the great “Bee Hive”
for eons of tears after creation dawned?
From the outset irrefutable impressionists hold the reigns
dwell in the surge of adrenalin’s rush,
an awareness to inflict one’s pain
with logic; simple minds cannot crush!
They called it religion in the name of;
coerced to sacrifice, manipulate,
a book of instructions a creed thereof
to enhance their powers, stipulate.
The human race, each an individual
yet herds of sheep reliant upon the Ram,
the weakest tossed aside, residual
till nurtured re-educated those the Lamb.
There are many in his name soil their reputation
unjustifiable actions condoned by a hierarchy of hidden agendas,
license to continue with savage mutation
to aid the evil despot, lord of the greatest of pretenders.
Soon this holy mess an ant’s nest deaden
although some the skill to explore the stars,
man will action his very own Armageddon
only to carry on with the emotional scars!
© Harry J Horsman 2016
Copyright © Harry Horsman | Year Posted 2016
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