The God Poem

I've got this kind of feeling.
I've often thought it odd
That no-one ever questions
The morality of god.
Now, a few of you may shake or frown
A few of you may scoff.
It's alright to "mock thy neighbour"
But to mock god's "a bit off"

Try this for size. Go doorknocking
And tell all those inside
That god is just some myth
Of a nomadic Hebrew tribe.
Sell them "Fast Asleep" or "Witchtower"
Tell them you're a shaman priest.
They'll think you're mad or dangerous
They'll lock you up at least!

But I digress. God's manners
In the testaments of old
Would be the kind of manners
That your grandmother would scold.
He said, "You've got free will
So you can do just what you please...
If you're good at dodging thunderbolts
and groveling on your knees."

"And you're going to need some laws
But don't you worry, I'll make them.
I may not tell what they are,
But I'll kill you if you break them."
Onan was a good example
Thunderbolted from creation
For spilling his seed upon the ground.
That's "premature ejaculation"

Or those kids that god caught laughing
At some prophet's balding top.
They got rent asunder by a bear!!
(God never studied Spock)
And I can just hear someone's mother
Saying "Son, I really care,
But you didn't clean your room
So I'm going to feed you to the bear."

Then along came god's son, Jesus
Some no good, hippy, drop-out geek
All long hair, peace and flower power
And turn the other cheek.
He got in trouble with the law
Left his mother in the lurch,
And fed the starving masses!
That's no way to run a church!
He couldn't make a thunderbolt
He hardly ever got mad.
He must have been a
Bitter disappointment to his dad!

So, there god sits in paradise
Longing for the days of old
When all his creatures of free will
Would do just what they're told.
At least he's got some nice new ways
To kill the heathen scum.
And I bet he's got a thunderbolt
with "Martin" written on!

Copyright; Martin Pearson