That Old Time Religion


Some tribes’ cobwebby myths
Commandeered and tossed in
With reworked patriotic tales
Deep-fried into a new religion


Cast in stone aids elites control
These all too scary unruly masses
Alongside the brute force of arms
Cruel slavery, theft and massacre


So long divorced from true Love
And fearful of their fear of fear
Yet they used fear and use it yet
To bolster a baleful status quo

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on September 13, 2016, in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.

  1. Guilt and fear. They’ve kept the masses in check for thousands of years.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. hard to uncover
    beautiful guidance
    within the misguided 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  3. And so it goes… History repeating itself over and over.

    Liked by 1 person

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