The Profit of Doom
By Mark Edgemon

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The Profit of Doom
By Mark Edgemon

Carnal barkers behind the pulpit,
Selling the gospel as Satan's puppets,
Angling the sale from the pitchman's bullpit,
All for another dollar from the masses.
 
Name dropping God with various variations,
Limited insight for sore eyes and tiring ears.
Hallelujah brother, God needs you to give,
For they are His hands and feet, for He has none.
 
"If your right arm offend you, cut it off
And cast it from you", God has said
And boy, the religious predators doeth offend.
 
The words of God are free to all with inner hearing,
But the commentaries are for sale to interpret His meaning,
Camouflaging His Truths that are meant to be obeyed,
At least the Truth you know and if you do, more will be given.
If you fail the first grade, do you move on to the second?
 
Buy a potted plastic fern they call "The Tree of Life",
To remind the buyer of God's eternal goodness,
Like dying on the cross wasn't good enough?
 
"Christian dating with fishy emblems will connect you",
Far better than The Holy Spirit, Who does His work for free.
 
Prostituting the gospel to first, second and third Johns,
Eager to pay for more instruction that they too will ignore.
 
Books and recordings, plaques and videos, nick knacks for ornaments,
All stamped with God's brand; He never gave His permission.
 
As the glory seeker stands ever sleeker before the assembly,
The children of the parishioners are matching pennies under their pews.
 
They learn fast!
 
The End

Go on to next poem by Mark Edgemon: The Purpose I Seek
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