The Script

The script is set, the clock it ticks,
the pain we carry, so we go quick,
to blame them for our victim hood
the pain we offer, is for our good,

to blame them for, what they did take,
our health, our joy, our small mistakes,
are smaller than their gaping sins,
"we're not as bad as them" --we grin,

the pain we have is all their fault
so God will strike them dead, assault
for I am in no fault at all,
but they are worth nothing at all;

The mind is set, to find mistakes,
to make the other burn at the stake;
to hear and see what it selects,
so it can cut, the All, dissect.

Oh God, what tragedy in store,
for every one here, me, and more,
what good in this is "finding fault"
when All is me, inside and out ?

I cause the pain, myself, to me,
by my incessant attacks on Thee,
Come help me change the script I made,
that Love may come to me again!

The play's begun, it can not stop,
the final hour, is not yet wrought,
--don't take the script too seriously,
but watch your purpose, internally.

Purpose is Meaning, set in time,
within the script, it points to thine,
it points to death, or points to life,
your own that is, it's like a knife.

You follow it, for it is you,
how you've defined, yourself so true,
to be the same as All there is,
or different, than "them" that is,

We look for guilt in all we see,
those that we love, to hate --our glee,
those that we love, to love and use
to strengthen self -we sing the blues;

we start with but a void to give
then wear a mask, pretend we live,
we offer up our-self to them,
they take the bate, but smiles seem dim;

pretending we'll be good for them,
we lie cajole, we hide the sin,
a barter for their loveliness --
we give them what is value less,

we seek to hide our littleness,
in guilt we push out innocence,
a script of hate, in difference.
keeps us in pain, indifference;

to every one outside myself,
I point my finger, accuse defense,
I shout it out, your sin is yours
that makes me clean,
I'm different.

Because I am myself renewed,
by seeing you in solitude,
by seeing you will die for me,
cause of your sins,
so great to see,

my difference, aglow, so clean,
because you're black and oh so mean,
because you did this awful thing,
to me, or others, it was obscene;

It doesn't matter, to whom, for what,
the purpose is to cover my butt,
so God will aim his anger at you,
and I'll be free to live, not you.

This is the script, we seem to play,
each hour, and every day,
we send out dogs of fear to find
some scraps of guilt in you to hide,

that we are good, that we are clean,
the story line is so obscene,
we are the hero, victim too,

for we are One,
We are NOT two.


Copyright 2008, Donald Chandonnet