McChurch

How have the mighty fallen now –
The jokes and texts the same somehow;
McChurch is from Toronto run,
So going there’s no longer fun.

It started back in seventy –
The end of our serenity –
They cut the T-R profs right out,
Replacing them with quips to spout.

From wisdom input nationwide
To mocked, ignored, and pushed aside,
The once well-thought-of Church of God
Just plants its people ’neath the sod.

The sermons come from Internet
To match the laid-out sani-text
No need for training now of course
When all's provided as resource.

We at McDonald's pre-taste food,
Where once some lovely restaurant stood;
They took surprise out from that place,
All deviants are soon replaced.

‘Just give them what they want to hear
So long as they bring funding near;
Do not offend the inner core;
If not like us – come back no more’.

It lasted for us two good years
Of life with struggle and some tears;
But now it ends – just wait and see,
(I'd rather in St. Elsewhere be).

Guess it was ending anyway
But there I can't much longer stay;
It gets my dander up you see
Such stress could be the end of me.

I'll hang around I guess a bit,
Some reason will be end of it,
So I can slip ’neath radar beams
So reason given seems what it means.

Too bad, it was a goodly fix
For fading memory's bag of tricks;
But ‘Exit Voice and Loyalty’
Sums up the problem there for me:

My voice was silenced by the coup
Back in the court-type-kangaroo;
My exit forced by inner clique
Who sat on churchly judgment-seat.

My loyalty – a question raised
Without the facts, my life was hazed.
That group gets leaders they deserve,
The rest of us get notice served.

I loved that institution well
Though its agenda’s straight from hell;
It's hard to let that culture go
Wherein they helped my spirit grow.

But, they've screwed up; don't want to see;
And have no use for likes of me;
Oh well, life's bigger than we think,
E'en though with them, good memories sink.

I dump-truck those who want no change
Till if and when – then I arrange
To take them back, and move them on,
But till that time – then I am gone.

Lord, thanks for those amazing weeks
With mom as she abatements seeks
For steady drum upon her head
Of aging troubles ’fore she's dead.

The ‘Pap test’ check of cancer smear
Could test to see if truth is near;
If only we could use in church
To test for ‘pap’, as our research.

Except it doesn't take much work
To see that clergy are the jerks
Who lead, or led, blind leading blind,
Emotively reject the mind.

Lord, what to do from here on in –
Such loss emerges from their sin;
For us it’s ‘building’ that's the key,
For mom who's losing memory.

Now as I think about this mess
The question is of tenderness –
Do I just out and speak my mind,
Or mumble lies of softer kind?

It seems to me that ’s got to stop,
I’ve pushed it under quite a lot;
They carry on as no big deal
Yet it’s their funds that made us squeal.

I’ve got no business ’cept for mom
Whose churching days are nearly done.
But that’s the part of memory
That feeds her days, helps her to be.

The cost just went up through the roof
For me, (no interest in reproof);
Just want to skirt that mess and leave
For they’ve not interest to perceive.

Nice folks they are, that I can see,
They certainly were there for me;
But this next round is more than I
Can take in me with more than sigh.

So cut it off I’d better do,
And do the mid-week trips as Stu.
It’s not as good, but what the heck
If I did Church, I’d be a wreck.

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