poor poetry perfromance

Just thought i would put up a poem that I had created a while back. I haven't looked at it in a while and it may be garbage, but I am feeling guilty that I have no posted anything recently to the blog...

enjoy?

(Don't try and actually read it like a iambic pentameter kind of poem... the rythm changes and the goal was more of a spoken word kind of piece, with fluctuations and creative pauses! Ha!)


You got the church richly carpeted in His favour
The cross up front showing that He is your saviour
Your Bibles are leather bound, big, embossed in gold
You don't think for yourselves but do as you're told
The Sunday doors spring open to welcome you in
And you guard your weekly heart from others getting in
There'll be no more tears and His arms are open wide
Greetings with puckered holy kisses, but thats only once you're inside.

So God's gotta love you, you live and worship in His home
But only once a week and then you return to your own
He pours out His blessings oh-so abundantly
But one thing's for sure, your God don't love me.

I know that He don't love me because of all the walls you've built
The distance and division destroys, like I deserve the hurting guilt
I know that He don't love me cause the life you've built is so good
And you look down down on mine cause you think you should
I know that he don't love me because you're in and I'm the other
Your Christian country club fraternity won't accept me as a brother.

Should it matter if I'm different, poor, gay or muslim
If I'm shy, unattractive, freaky, or foreign
We've all somehow fallen short and I'd think I'm preaching to the choir
But based upon the way you act that would make me a liar.


"God bless you brother" and "Hallelujah" is the talk you talk
You definitely speak well of your spiritual walk
You see the great unseen and raise heavenward hands
But won't look me in the eyes and grab mine to help me stand
Do unto others as THEY are your brother and sister
But between the well dressed suit and the single mother... you missed her
You're in your caves, your boxes, your bubble
You see anything or anyone on the outside as definite trouble

We are the naked, the poor, the oppressed, the weak
Aren't we the ones you should want to help, the ones you seek
Why am I alone with you and feeling so
So where is the love, the agape, the philio

I know the He don't love me because of the look in your eye
Cause somehow I don't measure up no matter what I try
I know that He don't love me cause I got no jacket of my own
While you're wearing two sweaters in your heated mansion home
I know that He don't love me cause you're in and I'm the other
Your Christian country-club-fraternity won't take me as a brother