Resistance Is Futile Poem by Mary Champion

Adrift on these wild storm-tossed seas,
we humans like our certainties -
like gurus who ooze confidence
whose rulings make the world make sense.
And so, when some man starts to quote
(it's almost always men - you'll note)
the word of God that he's received
there is a chance he'll be believed.
The human heart will cling to straws,
obey the most outrageous laws,
when a charismatic leader,
politician or a preacher
spouts his jargon we'll succumb,
in part because we fear we're dumb
and he's much cleverer than us
so, we're reluctant to discuss
the pros and cons of what he's said
we let our heart mislead our head,
assume he knows the secret code
to set us on the only road
that leads to paradise, not hell,
cos none of us can really tell
if this time we have got it right
if this one's really seen the light.

Across the godless west of late
increasing numbers contemplate
a world that has no gods or creeds,
no deity that intercedes
to threaten endless punishment
if we don't wise up and repent.
Who needs a priesthood? we surmise
whose secret knowledge, mystifies,
who speak in jargon so opaque
our minds turn mush our heads all ache.
They're not for us, our gods will be
Science and Technology.

Our priesthood now comprised of geeks
whose language almost no one speaks.
The systems that they have designed
control our lives, though we are blind
to all the secret codes they write
and it seems futile when we fight
for they have all the pow'r and gold -
just like the church in days of old.