If journalism was a honey drizzled cup of tea,
I’d swish the apple sweet around my mouth to let it sieve
through the small of my teeth and stain the roots
of my buttery gums.
If poetry was sun-kissed apricots,
I’d take a tender bite out of the fibre meshed round
leaving dentures to its hard outer-core skin,
gentle flakes of its fresher state,
an earlier date.
If science was the truth,
I’d drink the logical elixir from brim to base
running around shouting
‘now I’m free, I’ve had my dose,
and only about the truth is what I can boast.’
If only religion was more than just absolutes,
allowing for flukes,
delivering promised grace for everyone, material bans to be later undone.
But journalism is not so sweet, the media’s facts are not so concrete
and poetry is just words strung together in a confused blunder,
an effort to reword our blurred momentary burst of energy.
Neither science nor religion are absolute
and neither or are concurrently cruel.
One theory has not been proven wrong as of yet,
the other has been mass produced in conflicting mindsets.
If humans were not the cause of destruction
war, hunger, obstruction.
Propagators for hatred and fears of notions unknown,
crippling parasites caused from being underexposed.
But what is taught can be untaught.
Journalism is not sweet, the media is not concrete
poetry is threadbare, science is not logical,
religion is not absolute,
humanity is not dead.