Child christening

In everlasting life, they hide

Abundant guilt, a swelling tide.

Each sacred, hallowed, pious plea

Now suffers, for it cannot be.

Doubt and thought, a restless breath,

Oppose the digestion—a mental death—

Of dogmas narrow, tight, and confined,

Which echo in a spastic mind.

Your fine church, with pious air,

Defies the irony laid bare.

The flock's ideas, crude and base,

Now march in a debased parade's disgrace.

Inside your heads, the matrices,

Uneducated slaves, Semites;

The words you find in sacred texts,

The money's share, its complex effects.

And yet your crimes, the wrongs you've sown,

Are pardoned by the policeman's tone.

Perhaps in some archaic future night,

An angel's death will bring the light.

The history of the faith you praise,

The invention of sin, a blinding haze;

The icons in the vaulted nave,

Are phantoms that the masses crave.

The power's deviations, deep,

The narratives the centuries keep;

All are hostages to the lie,

In the blood of unbelievers, left to die.

A fabricated face, a form,

They christened Christ, to norm the norm.

A comedy of ethics, spun,

So useless, and so overdone.