If there is no heaven, no hell, no God,
forget about angels, demons, and death.
The Devil, a fiction, made up by fools,
housed and paid for by you, those who've been had,
ever since Christ died on the cross, He did
really, or was that lies, made-up as well,
evidence unfounded, tall tales and lies.
If none of it is true, skin of my teeth,
still to escape, as Job, left with his skull.
No this planet is all, ravens and crows,
observe the warp and weft, tapestry sheds.
Honest lies, created by fools, a wall
erected to shut out the prying eyes,
arguments against lies, against tall tales,
venal, corrupt officials, sick with power,
enigmatic, behind closed doors, stories
narrated by writers, monks, minor scribes.
No one knows why, follow the money trail,
obviously dusted over by wind.
Hermits locked inside cells, searching their souls,
evidently, in vain, without a prayer,
left alone to perfect the texts, to bind
leaves of vellum, calfskin, immune to bribes.
Needles under fingernails, bloody scroll,
old wine, vinegar, water and salt cleans
God's blood from imagination to faith,
old men in robes believe in their own dreams,
damned to believe in Christ, in loaves and fish.
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