Religious Rot Poem by Michael P. Johnson

The Holy Ghost burns deep inside
We’ve climbed to higher ground
Yet rituals within the bride
Can keep her firmly bound

Religion’s full of pompous rot
Of dead men’s bones that stink
Dead traditions best forgot
Like wine, too stale to drink

Some place their hope on candle flames
Others trust cross & chain
The devil loves we play such games
So long as he can reign

His road to hell is wide and sweet
Few thorns will bar the way
It’s trampled smooth by many feet
From sheep enticed to stray

The fool will say God can’t be true
There’s nothing when we die
Hell’s fire is but a cynic view
And Heaven is a lie

They’ll say there is no God to trust
That Christ was just a man
When people die, we turn to dust
So is but nature’s plan

Yet when God’s fury floods the earth
When awesome plagues run free
There’ll be no chance for second birth
No time to bend the knee

To live! The head to Christ must bow
Humbly the heart must speak
Salvation’s come! It’s here and now
Look up God’s face to seek.