The Bible Sonnet

 


You cannot argue with the Bible, man,
because the words therein are what they are:
a trashy bric-a-brac of tales and tolds
of tribal strictures from a land of sand,
of sects who knew no physics of the stars,
and now to dim know-nothing souls is sold.

The Bible is a tinseled B-rate script:
of genocidal romps and bigotry,
of poetry that sometimes is sublime,
of magic shows and dead raised from stone crypts.
It does not bode well for the thinking free:
the world, you see, is just on borrowed time.

But I would change not one thing in its books,
all sixty-six: they've moved both scribes and schnooks.




placed in the Poets United Poetry Pantry #73