Fools' Prophets

A prophet came as if to preach, with miracles as well... With strangely spoken truths to teach, to save lost souls from Hell. It seemed that though he knew God's Word, he'd often add a twist... Until all wisdom had been blurred and none could get the gist! His fame and fortune none could doubt, for they grew hand-in-hand, But none could work his teachings out, for none could understand... One day, he preached of sacrifice, the next, God was our friend, The next, that God was not so nice and Hell would never end! He quoted scriptures now and then, with parables to boot, To follow with a joke again that people thought was cute... He even uttered prophecies and some of these came true, The rest proved lies, catastrophes, as if he had no clue! He fleeced the foolish flocks each week in lands both near and far, As every dollar he would seek, saved in his cookie jar... At first, I thought he was a saint, this devil in disguise, Whose lifestyle knew not one restraint, then God opened my eyes... Now I won't give a single dime, a dollar, franc or pound... To contribute would be a crime, like all the scams around... God couldn't bless the likes of me, until I understood, Not all who speak of Calvary are there to serve the good... Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2011. The poem is based on all those preachers who have souled out...