Don’t want to give up sex, drugs, inebriation
And not replace the thrill with a new sensation.
I don’t want to suck the joy out of my being
And replace laughter for stillness
Dancing for kneeling,
But I want to live my life to the full.
Her solemnity is not a reflection of my saviour
His rigidity is not an imitation
Their ritual does not proclaim him
Empty religion does not honour him.
On most days I’m radical
On Sundays they’re cynical, sceptical
I’m over the top – I don’t think so,
It’s just that he fills me until I have to go
The passion it just overflows
What he’s done for me no other man ever could;
No other man ever would.
They pretend to herald the good book
I wonder if they’ve had a good look
As they fallaciously traditionalise
Birthing unbiblical rigour
Fairytale, fable, fiction minus action
Their twisted version, a boring perversion
Of a living freedom, a free invitation
To a much faster experience
A more intense kick
Laced with superior spirituality,
Supernatural expectancy:
The dead raised, lepers leaping
Blind men seeing
He said it would never stop
He said it would never stop
FULL STOP
But greater things he announced
We would pronounce
With holy articulation, righteous authority
Graceful affirmation, miraculous authentication.
They want to introduce you to doctrine
But I want you to meet my man
Breathing oxygen into these formerly withering bones
I exhale captivity, inhale freedom
Shackles broken.
So give me an adventure of faith
Abandon me to the unworldly, otherworldy way
Which I was created to walk in.
Oh and one other thing, a preemptive HAPPY EASTER! Jesus is alive and kicking.
