Come out come out...

Come out come out…

Do not chase facts in the book of god,
they’ll not be found only ever sought.
Like a castle made of finest sand,
those grains of truth run out of hand.

He could not save a man made monster,
only standing by to watch the melt.
His believing ministers are on full tilt,
trying futilely to convince us how we felt.

No he can only make appearance when,
his standing is of a mad desperate need.
No guidance he gives on logical outcome,
the poor he chases with fears to feed.

Scratching bitterly at peoples fearful sores,
creating little comfort wanting highest praise.
Black clad scare tacticians groom a persona,
trying to spread their word on human’s malaise.

If this was a critical mass of purist certainty,
bring it forth unto our true sterile attention.
Don’t hide behind the black cloak of mystery,
deriding all who see through tacit invention.