Not your regular kind of poem
my name is Stephen
and stones my first death did precede.
Forget reincarnation, I'm risen again
not the Sanhedrin to finger
as to tickle their hate
I'm here with a quill to prickle your faith.
that conjecture, as bestowed us, christened 'holy fear'
it's gone beyond 'what ifs'
it's another ‘lie’.
if you would please tell me
why faith be my first and ‘Last Supper’
and blood my sweet sin-pie
I'll swallow my pride.
you baptized me with doctrines without my will
and urge me embrace convictions I would not permit
this fear termed 'holy' you made me inherit
could only keep me faithful
until I taste of that tree.
where then is the efficacy of 'holy fear'
if the debt of Christ's remains
my soul cannot keep,
nor prayers you made us recite,
my heart cannot cleanse?
God and faith, are fear’s, coup de maître
it suits up wanton desires in a cloak of piety.
Free morals
Caged agents
Freethinkers
Atheists
Believers
Gentiles
Black man
all are mental epithets
hurled at human frailty to sustain 'holy fear'
from cradle to grave we're fed with holy lies
generations over shall feed on faith’s myth
and man shall loop on in a cage of fear’s façade
but what if I tell you truth is a lie called “God”!
will you remind me of Stephen
and stone be beneath sod?
#365DaysOfPoetry
#Pengician
#SSA
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