Wholly Bible

Thy word is a lamp for my own needs

And a torch for my wrath.

Take a look at the book

Your children forsook.

We casually peruse it,

Selfishly abuse it,

Confuse it,

Lose it,

Fuse it,

And accuse with it.

Exploiting your prophets for profits,

Plastering phrases and rhymes

On t-shirts and signs

Ignoring the lines above and

Below

Because the context disconnects

Your intent from my desire.

These scriptures are a brick

Thick enough to pick up

And smash through

The windows and doors

Of the widows and poor

And anyone who offends

While we defend

Our cut-and-paste passage

And memory verse that assuage

Our guilt and fear that

What we see and hear

With our own eyes and ears

From our own fists and jeers

Might not be thy will as it is in heaven.

Your word is an answer key

To shut up those who disagree

With me in all my glory.

And each story, song, and letter

Serves me better

Cut up with chapters and verses

To bite-sized portions

Which make my distortions

So

Easy.

We dissect, correct, and collect

Tidbits and scraps

To set our traps

That will prove we already know

And show our holiness and piety.

Still we print them,

Holy Bible blazoned on spine and cover.

But we need to recover what we’ve lost

Under the embossed leather.

To drink in your word,

Not probing or analyzing,

But being filled and thrilled

By what is

Wholly Bible.