Poem: Congregation of the Dead

In lifeless patterns of repetition,
the congregation of the dead assemble,
eddying around the Light of Truth;
lacking reverence, they sadly tremble

and cringe during the Sunday Service,
seeking loopholes from accountability;
after all, regular attendance grants
the sacred status of Church nobility.

Meanwhile, frustrated ministers hurl
their verbal rocks, in futile attempts
to weed out their spiritual deadwood,
unaware that their righteous contempt

reveals their inability to love others.
Some lacking understanding may wander in,
since membership dues may be optional.
Come join the Church Petri dish of sin

to learn new zombie techniques of gnawing
on the flesh of religious, blind souls;
with Bible clubs and tongues of hell-fire,
receive your training and go on patrol.

Most folks know that ‘iron sharpens iron’;
so come and let us beat you mentally down;
since we’re unable to mature any further,
let’s make sure that you leave with a frown.

Learn secret methodologies for developing
a critical spirit and a unloving tongue;
come fill the vacancy of front-row pews;
come and join us, while you’re still young.

Author notes

Inspired by:
Prov 21:16; 2 Cor 4:4; John 3:19-20; Eph 4:17-19

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.