The Path That Is Right - POEM

There was once a religious man
Who felt that he needed to force
His unfounded views upon anyone else
Each and every morning, he would
Preach to me, about his rebirth
I couldn’t be convinced
Nor could I be coerced
Into believing his strange doctrine
He had killed men,
At least, he said he had,
And had stolen from others
He was a member of a gang
Spent time in jail
Then he turned over a new leaf,
Like the flip of a coin
Found a loving wife
And got an honest job
Each day, he’d dedicate hours
To praying and worshipping
His beloved saviour
Now, whilst I am in favour
Of forgiveness and atonement
It concerns me and
Makes me wonder
Why he had to commit
Such atrocities and heinous crimes
Before realising it was wrong
And then dedicating himself
To a person who has not presented
Any real evidence that he exists, or existed,
It’s not even about the book,
The Good Book,
I respect every word written therein
But don’t try to tell me
That you can abide by every one of those words
In unwavering literary sense
Nor is it about the man
Jesus, the Nazarene,
That it speaks of,
For him, I respect too,
And the message he brought
But is about the people, confused,
Who cling to this mythos
This dogma,
This ideal,
That if you do nothing
But have faith
Success will land in your lap
If you sin,
And that is a very vague concept,
Just go crazy,
Because you’ll be forgiven
So long as you devote yourself
To Jesus, at some point
In your life that was
Up till then, meaningless
It matters not that
You had an identity
Of your own
Before you realised
The error of your ways
The immorality and pure evil
Of your former endeavours
What was necessary for you to realise
All this?
A vision of God, or Jesus, or Mary,
Compelling you to awaken
Or was it simply
The knowledge of what
Is right and wrong,
And having said that,
The ability to choose
A path that is right
I could be wrong
And that’s the joy
Of being human,
We can make mistakes
And we will
In time we’ll learn from them
For that is our nature
We create the problems
Then we run to our wonderful
Saviour, all out of options,
“Oh, wait...there’s God”
“He’ll forgive me..”
And you tell yourself
That he has done so
That you’ve reserved a seat
Past the pearly gates
Because you’ve atoned
For your former
tawdry existence
But for the meantime
You’re still here, on Earth
Our very own version
Of parallel Hell
And the very religious man
Asks me for a cigarette
Shortly after preaching
The effects of ‘sin’ on one’s body
I look on this man, shrug,
And give him a cigarette,
And behold,
The effects of ‘sin’ on one’s mind
The effects of believing
In something that is truly
Impossible to adhere to
In the meantime, with due respect,
I say, “Use those innate things,
That we all possess,
Common sense
And self-restraint;
Know what is right and wrong
And choose the path
That is right.”

© Dean R Boic 2016 (image courtesy of


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