unreliable

all is a lie

the old words

found centuries ago

written on clay blocks

or carved in stone

then seemingly lost forever.

the words of drunks and fools

inked not from the mind,

private and incorruptable,

but the hands of kings and emperors

then branded with a gold seal.

a handful of type

carelessly placed on the press.

magic elves jump up and down

printing out sheets of

matthew, mark, and luke.

fat, obsessed leeches

in yellow stained underwear

sweat from the movement

of reaching out to a keyboard.

with the press of a button

the ravings of lunatics

are sent to the world.

the seven ancient sages

clad in robe and hood

peer into each other's

dust filled eyes,

and question

where they failed.