God Was A Monkey Poem by Paul Warner

What can I say,
ever since I left the tree,
always looking back and up.

In the tree I was happy,
a canopy of contentedness,
the sun rose and set.

Eating, procreating, sleeping,
Life had a meaning.
Then down the trunk, we ventured.

The tranquility of the tree tops,
Surpassed by stretches of Savannah.

The vastness of this upright,
Two legged world was daunting.
Eat or be eaten was the order of the day.

Wandering nomadic like,
Following the herds on their migration annually.

No tree no womb of security anymore.
Then we planted crops.
Rooted to the ground, ownership became the game.

Banding together we fought to protect ourselves and our sanity.
Not long before a Lord with power took control.

The Lord told us instead of looking up to the lost tree see higher,
because all the world was created by a God.
God the monkey maker is watching and protecting us.
Kneel down and praise the deity.

Buy your space at the top of the tree,
Money a form of barter can buy you salvation.

I miss the tree and world that was meaningful.
Now it seems an irreversible path,
away from the tree, and even felling them for money and war.