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Sunday morning Pests.

Two thousand years or so ago.
Three criminals were crucified.
And yet today we claim we know
One was the son of God and died.

We cannot prove that this true
there’s very little evidence.
But we are still expected to
give these stories full credence.

By word of mouth they were passed down.
Translated from old Aramaic.
They came from sources now unknown
Could they free from all mistake.

When they written finally
Although no doubt with good intent
Were they translated properly
or were they changed by accident.

By accident or purposely.
Perhaps a mixture of the two
To claim divine authority.
To me it simply will not do.

To tell me that I must believe.
What may or may not be true.
Is something which you won’t achieve.
There’s very little you can do.

I can’t accept on faith alone.
Until you can prove the things you teach.
are truths that stand up on their own.
Consider me beyond your reach.

Christianity could very easily
have flourished for a while and died.
It owes its popularity.
To information men supplied.

Who had some private axe to grind
Men who stood to benefit.
Perhaps you think I am unkind
that I can’t prove a word of it

I can’t deny that it is so
I don’t expect you to agree.
But I believe you do not know
The whole truth any more than me.

I can respect what that you believe
I do not find it difficult
But I’m not willing to receive
Indoctrination by some cult.

So please don’t knock upon my door
Attempting to convert me to your view
Because I’ve heard it all before
and I’ve got better things to do.

Than listen to the likes of you.

02/09/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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