Eugene wrote a book,
It caused a little friction.
Altering our look,
Mingling truth with fiction.
A manhattan project,
Projected on the bible.
Changing every object,
To make it more/less tribal.
Muddying allusions,
Creating new divisions.
Darken with illusions,
Incanted by his fissions.
Foisted are his fusions,
Incongruent are his claims.
Lost are his conclusions,
(What truly are his aims)
Re-writing the story,
unSpirited his art.
his Message wholly whorey,
And from holiness departs.
All that’s crystal clear,
He turns into a riddle.
Rudderless his steer.
With God’s word never fiddle.
his words many have followed,
To some he serves a function.
God’s word you have hollowed
out, an utter act of unction.
God’s book is not a script,
That needs to be re-written.
The holy pages stripped.
The editors shall be smitten.
God’s word is wholly true,
How dare you rearrange.
There’s only one point of view,
Mr Peterson you must change.
Your eyes lead you astray.
Toss your pen and your blotter.
The Bible isn’t clay,
And you are not The Potter.
Repent of your deception,
Become a true believer.
Your book from the inception,
Was authored by The Deceiver.
Postmodern Mud 