Dogma

Encrusted principles and beliefs

Defended by the king and his fifes

Bent on religious knees

Higher monks to please

I didn’t know that this was so

Came as a blow

From a friend

That called me, a so and so,

Believe it or not

Discussions over a pup

A sweet little mop

Its barking wouldn’t stop

I gave it a treat

It waggled its tail so sweet

Should give it a boot with my cleats

My friend mutters as he retreats

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Do I know you I said

I’d rather be dead

To hurt this little critter instead

You’re kidding right, you wouldn’t I bet

Ah, he says, it’s a lump of meat

Good for shitting, and for feed

Rather feed the kids in need

So a better life they lead

I stood there aghast

He walks away, I yelled not so fast

A glaring glance I cast

While in his glory he did bask

Where did you learn to be so mean?

Living righteous and so clean

Gave your halo such a sheen

On feeding children keen

I go to church he says

Give money to the poor God Bless

My sins I do confess

With that my wrongs redress

He’s pulling my strings I thought for sure

Knows every bar and whore

Never seen him help the poor

 Have I such bullshit to endure

Animals are for use he says

It’s us that God did bless

Do no moral laws transgress

I didn’t make the world a mess

I said, you screwed around with every lass

That’s all you thought of was your ass

Then on Sundays run to mass

Little puppies would harass

You and all the likes

 Be obliged to feed the little tykes

Buy them toys and bikes

You guys made them, then went on hikes

And the other sort quite not so brave

The world a family they gave

To churches doctrine were a knave

Helped not, overpopulation stave

Millions of starving here and there

Begging for their share

Depend on a bowl of rice from care

Telling me of morals, dare!

Breed, breed, and breed,

That’s what got us here indeed

Soon eat ourselves out of house and home with speed

Animals and their planet rape with greed

Go home my friend, don’t give me lip

This is not good stewardship

Your smoking grass, you’re on a trip

Go home before my guts I flip

But here and there you find

A little hand that’s kind

 Little lass, not yet so blind

To give a treat not mind!

And then a little guy with bright blond hair

Pointed at the puppy fair

Look ma, look ma,

A dogma!