Jul 2015
For just over two thousand years
we've held to the thoughts of the past
Followed teaching, and the preaching
that professed faith to all whom asked
Dare we ever question that faith
we find ourselves mired in pain
Be-seeched by those, one might suppose
to be blessed or somehow ordained
Legislating morality
has never worked and never will
you can't force folk, under a yolk
of privileged who sit top a hill
Eating from the tree of knowledge
perhaps we found our sanity
We need be fair, man's self aware
one can't deny humanity
The religious right will survive
behind glass in a museum
An oddity, commodity
for all those who want to see them
we've held to the thoughts of the past
Followed teaching, and the preaching
that professed faith to all whom asked
Dare we ever question that faith
we find ourselves mired in pain
Be-seeched by those, one might suppose
to be blessed or somehow ordained
Legislating morality
has never worked and never will
you can't force folk, under a yolk
of privileged who sit top a hill
Eating from the tree of knowledge
perhaps we found our sanity
We need be fair, man's self aware
one can't deny humanity
The religious right will survive
behind glass in a museum
An oddity, commodity
for all those who want to see them
You know I have given this much thought of late. The recent Supreme court decision on gay rights has split the country asunder. As for me I have a sister who is gay I simply want for her happiness. The government has no business in our bedrooms or our private life. We seek to marry those who bring our lives meaning. Follow your own path. It is not for others to impede the road upon which choose. This is not a question of morality it is a question of rights. By what right does any man have the ability to tell another who to love? love thy brother as thyself.
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
