A Poet’s Religious Rant

I’m damned if I do

And damned if I don’t

Tell me I must

I certainly wont

 

A contradiction of terms

In each bleeding line

My bait is a kiss

Juicy with rhyme

 

Tastes like the sea

Or a honey dew melon

Soft as a feather

Hard as a felon

 

Slap you with words

So luscious you swoon

Make you lick your lips

While epiphany looms

 

Leave you writhing and wanting

At the end of the page

Pull your heart strings

Till they sing my praise

 

So harken to me

These lines that will curve

Around protrusions of you

Striking a nerve:

 

For the fault of woman

I cannot win

Felled by an apple

In a garden of sin

 

Sullied and unworthy

Babylon’s whore

The temptress of men

Twisted by lore

 

For those who condone

The oppressions of a book

Burned at the stake

Of liberties you took

 

Twisting my propensities

Till the “Devil” moves my hand

Never attempting to clearly see

Or simply understand

 

I have never burned a Christian lass

For talking to her cat at night

Or stoned her for lying with a man

Because I thought it wasn’t right

 

I will even say “Merry Christmas”

When Santa asks for change

Your hatred of my difference

Is pathetic and deranged

 

I will love your Buddha

Your Shiva, Jehovah and Jehad

I know not why you can’t love me

In the equal eyes of God

 

 

 

 

 

 

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