A Poem: Offense

I’ve been told that I’m offensive for telling the truth. I’m sorry that reality bothers you. I can’t write one damn poem without it being sad, but I’m sure everyone is okay with that. People love how crude my honesty is until it exposes the darkness that they posses. I confess, most often you posses your very own carcass. Who do you say you are? What God do you serve? I hope this is irritating to your nerves. There’s no sunshine and rainbow when you’re serving your own ego. So you want to be a pastor? How are you fixing broken systems? Is your love big enough to break the alabaster box and realize that everything you want to build has no worth? Maybe you just hope that somehow this will work and your name will be spoken by those who you worship.

I’m tired of seeing people look forward to the spotlight while they profit off of the pockets of a congregation. You’re employed to be a celebrity, but you have no real foundation but pure idolatry. Jesus said a prophet was never accepted in his own town and to be honest I realize that now. You can chase me off a cliff or stone me to death, but I will never give up fighting the system that you see fit.

There are people dying daily, but I’m sure you don’t care. Big churches only care about how their stage looks and what they’re going to wear. I’m not sorry if I offend you. I actually hope I do. There has to be an awakening so God can finally move. I’m not saying you’re lost or not a Christian. I just know that there’s more that you’re missing and there’s blood on your hands from your satire kissing. You’re like Judas with your greed; that would prevent Lazarus from ever being able to stand. The place that you serve under I would never recommend. You think you’re like the Jews but you’re really like Rome. Maybe one day I won’t have to tell you this in a poem.

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