In our all-consuming ambition (obsession?)
for rectification of all the imperfection
that constantly bring us dissatisfaction
in desperation we seek salvation
in gods that capture our imagination
and to them render our adulation.
But the gods we choose are our choice
who when they speak we hear our voice
or walk and talk just like one of the boys
yet on whom our highest hopes we foist
the imperfections we abhor to erase
and this Purgatory to turn into Paradise.
To our chosen gods temples we build
where their great deeds are extolled
their infallibility affirmed and adored
as we believers gather as a horde
awed by the wisdom of their every word
in the hallowed chambers resoundingly echoed.
When some mere misguided mortals dare
question and challenge the gods we hold dear
their words we drown out and refuse to hear
call them brainless benighted minions of the Devil
shout at them their poisoned tongues to hold still
wish them thrown to the deepest depths of Hell.
Passionately and reverently we pay homage
to imperfect gods created by us in our own image
who in turn nurture and mold us in their image
at their altar lustfully offering blood sacrifice
with blind minds adamantly refusing to acknowledge
that they and we are blemished and damaged.
Eric S.B. Libre