This is a poem I wrote about the "Happy Valley" state of mind.
Mindless Pride,
They stand on their Castle tower,
And hang from their Steeples,
Yelling a Prayer to their Lord,
For all to see and hear,
But they do not feel.
Backstabbing the God they worship,
Taking no Pity,
Having no Mercy,
Knowing they do wrong yet,
Feeling no Guilt or Regret.
The ultimate Blasphemy.
Their Hearts are hardened,
Calloused to the Ecstasy of True Religion,
Immune to the Tender Freedom that it offers,
An open Guide to the Cure,
For all the Diseases of Life,
And all you must do is Turn the Pages.
Yes, find comfort while you still can,
Worship Popularly,
While you can harness your Sultry satisfaction,
From the Handicap that is your own Arrogance,
He loves all, BUT,
His Hands don’t insure those that deny him,
His Blood won’t advocate a Hypocrite.
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