Boobie Reactionary Religious Recrudescence
(from Fernando Po, U.S.A., America's post-literate retreat to Plato's Cave)

In Boobie “heartland" USA
It's hard to find a heart
Since almost no one lives there you
Could use a shopping cart
To gather up the ones you'd find
And count them, part by part

And yet though few now live on farms
And more would flee who could
And mostly trees and acres rule
Where once some people stood
Still eighteenth century designs
For voting count as good

Wherever you find emptiness
You'll find religion's lair
A vacuum of the intellect
A muscle pumping air
An embolism of the mind
With nothing really there

But emptiness has uses which
The politicians know
The emptier the minds that vote
The more their powers grow
And soon the princes and the priests
Will have us back in tow

We only just escaped them back
A century or two
So why go over this again
As if it is their due?
To generate confusion like
A deadly dose of flu?

Some like to say that nature moves
According to a plan
But then again they claim the scheme's
Inscrutable to man
Which makes it then impossible
To learn the things we can

Bill Clinton said he wished to walk
By faith and not by sight
Which sounds a little stupid if
You haven't got a light
And find you have to go outside
To take a pee at night

Try crapping in the bushes if
By faith your bowels move
Then shut your eyes and wipe the shit
Blindfolded from your groove
Then grab some leaves to clean your hands
And thus your lesson prove

What kind of insight does it take
To open up the eyes
To bogus dogma, fantasy,
And just those outright lies?
Who cares what superstitious fools
Think that religion buys?

But in those other places where
More people choose to live
Exciting possibilities
Exist for those who give
A value to the open mind
And not the secretive

The Boobies think that you and I
Should dumb our culture down
To levels they can comprehend
Without a squint or frown
(We must not water stagnant minds
With thinking lest they drown)

So chase Darwin out of the schools
Replacing him with what?
Two-thousand-year-old Christian crap?
Or "feelings" in the "gut"?
Who wants to live in such a world
Commanded by the nut?

I pledge no one subservience
I swear upon no flag
I take no oath to be an oaf
And bumble as I brag
If I tried gargling "under GAWD"
I'd throw up, barf, and gag

I will not learn obedience
I do not ask for fear
So you can take your ignorance
And stuff it in your ear
Or someplace where the sun don't shine
Whichever you find near

And if that means the "heartland," friend,
Then you can have the heart
A land that needs religion has
Forsworn the thinking art:
Its brain programmed with Basic code
That reads, START: GO TO START

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright © 2005