(1926 / Prescott, Arizona)

This Human Race

The human race is so full of manure,
And so insane it will never mature,
The intellectual level is so minute',
Almost impossible to find one astute.

They find solace in religious nonsense,
Makes one wonder how they can be so dense,
Superstition and fantasy hold sway,
Attempts at common sense are driven away.

Their minds made up, don't confuse with facts,
They prefer to continue their ridiculous acts,
And try to proselytize others into their fold,
Telling them of streets paved with gold.

A pointless endeavor to change their mind,
They would then treat you unkind,
Because you told them they would not live forever,
They know better because they are so clever.

Logic cannot enter their mindless goal,
Some parasite convinced them they have a soul,
And a place in the sky with streets of gold,
For the parasites interest if truth be told.

A never ending array of stupidity I see,
Of the gullible masses that desire it to be,
Never able to see they are supporting a parasite,
Making a living by feeding them tripe!

by Franklin J. Warren

Other poems of FRANKLIN J. WARREN (49)

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