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

The Christians, Jews, and Muslims found
A way to test their wits
These Boobies hung themselves on poles
Or threw themselves in pits
To slash and stab and stone themselves
In atavistic fits

Domestic quarrels such as these
Have seldom led to peace
But only to more arguments
Which somehow never cease
Until divorce brings happiness
Or martyrdom’s release

The concept of the single “gawd”
Leaves little more to mock
Yet charlatans consider it
Their tawdry trade and stock:
No worse idea ever crept
From underneath a rock

The dabbler in theology
Ties thinking up in knots
And ends up “proving” theories with
Those Rorschach ink-stain blots
A schizophrenic exercise
In complicating plots

Mistaking recrudescence for
“Awakening” sublime
The Boobie brain has failed so let’s
Just stumble back in time
And live two thousand years ago
In darkness, plague, and grime

The priests and kings would love it, though.
They always have and will.
If science hadn’t come along,
We’d live in darkness still
Enslaved to kings and priests intent
On feeding us their swill

The frightened ones need pity but
That doesn’t make them king
With autocratic power to
Dictate the tune we sing
The choir has many voices and
Each one deserves to ring

So let us hear no more of “spooks”
Somewhere “up in the sky”
Not singular, not plural, not
A girl and not a guy;
And certainly not “sacred” which
Means only: Don’t ask “why?”

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright © 2006-2017