Neil Gray

Rookie (November 5th 1972. / Some hospital I think...can't remember...was very young at the time.)

In Conversation With.... - Poem by Neil Gray

'Snake like silence in this house of God
as I pull up a pew and kneel to pray.
Tell me, how many have fallen here?
Bleeding, coated in sin,
Begging for forgiveness and divine intervention,
How many hundreds, how many thousands
have knelt where I now kneel
only to have their voices fall upon deaf ears?
Is it enough just to have faith?
Is it enough just to rely on the mandate
that you are everywhere?
This all seeing, all wise diety,
Hiding his face in Temples through out this land
like a coward.
Is this what we call belief?
Each church, each cathedral,
Decked out in resplendent dress
with priceless stain-glass windows,
with crosses made from solid gold.
What of the antique works of art buried deep within
catacpmbs under the Vatican city?
Another billion dollar business that might
just by you a seat in heaven
just as long as you subscribe.
Just a common thief,
Our Lord,
Our Saviour'

'It was such a good idea when it started.
Just to be good to one another,
To love thy fellow Man,
To bring peace to all.
Then these orginizations sprung up over night
and found that people would
pay for the word.
What was I supposed to do?
Smite them all?
Wipe out Mankind?
I tried that before and it didn't work,
Remember?
You see people just stopped believing.
Sure, they still go to mass,
Purchase their effiges of the crucifiction,
Read the book,
But it's not ME that they believe in.
It's those damn preachers spitting out their
poisoness lies about how,
No matter WHAT you do,
You're still going to burn.
I mean...what kind of deal is that?
Did I really say all that shit about
Original Sin?
What kind of God creates and entire race
and offers them Paradise only to write in a sub-clause
that states that no matter what they do they won't be able
to get in because they have all been born
with the eternal mark upon their soul's?
Dosen't that strike you as a tad pointless?

As for the charge of being a common criminal
I'm not the one that has spent centuries
raping and pilliging under the guiding light
of the cross now, have I?
What God,
That has given life to everything,
Needs his people to take over neighbouring lands
just to please him?
I made this Earth, not you.
It was just loaned under the previso
that you all lived in harmony,
NOT that you tried to exterminate each other
just because some ass-hole say's that he speaks for me
and I told him that you were the chosen people
and everyone else were infidels.
All those priceless treasure's offered to me in tribute?
I don't need them.
Sell them,
Melt them down,
Do what you can and take all the profit
and give it to the poor,
The starving,
The dying,
Do THIS in my name
and make me proud.

But you're right,
I am guilty.

Guilty of putting my faith
in a race of creatures
with so many inherent flaws.

That is my crime
and also my punishment.'


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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 7, 2006

Poem Edited: Friday, April 7, 2006


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