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Divine Dirty Secrets

As you defecate on your microphone
 On the pulpit of harlotry
 Reason with violence, you're in a delusion
 A slave to a knaves history:

 The Book may be torn, though holy and worn
 There's nothing that Faith can't askew
 Men, I said Men have a way, to lie and betray
 Each decade they see things anew

 For years they enslave, in secret conclaves
 They edit what should be left pure
 Until centuries, when millions agree
 That you, they, and I need a cure

 Then they will fight, about which way is right
 If Blood should be pressed, cold or stirred
 Then they'll make war, on pulpits and shores
 Religion can be so absurd

 A sacred divine, a woman in time
 Can be either a Saint, or a Whore
 Take Magdalene, at once with the men
 Who in time even Popes abhorred

 Bend or divide, transform, then confide
 Words are the Guardians keys
 Tear it apart, Mankind from the start
 Traded guilt, and placed it on Eve

 Perchance when the Fog, one day reveals God
 Hates Secrets as much as we do
 But until that day, let silence allay
 Each to his own point of view.
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Submitted on September 30, 2013

59 sec read

Derrick Puente Claim this poet

"From the sublime to the ridiculous, is but a step"- Napoleon Bonaparte more…

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