To Hell in a Handbasket ~ Friday, December 5, 2025

When they say, "Jesus loves you," I believe
however, I do not believe a word
ever spoken by entitled black sheep
nothing anybody dares to conceive

they apparently know what I do not
how their faith becomes fact, a little bird
enters the fray to say I am asleep
yet, my eyes are open without a doubt

sleep eternal as cosmic dust, I caught
a cold in Church, my death is imminent
yet, they all say I will live forever

Jesus and Bilbo Baggins view time spent
endlessly as constructs of the never
spoken fact within faith, stories hold clout
understood as power or influence
so, religion becomes pure politics

lessons learned as anarchists demonstrate
on the streets how portable their nonsense
visions as radicals get together
enterprise their agenda full of tricks
slowly rabbits appear to congregate

yet, no matter how social is their cause
only to flock as birds of a feather
until the streets become their church en masse

I cannot attend to their lies, I pray

but to whom I know not, I offer sass
every pasta needs some sauce but say
language is but a game, I see their flaws
in the mirror reflecting the speaker
every intention leads to perdition
visions of hell as the Inquisition
emerges to argue none the weaker

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