I would write a poem
That would change your world.
But, first you have to want
Your world to be changed.
I would write you a poem
That would find you true love
But that would change your world
And the result would be the same.

I’d write a rhymed sonnet
Worthy of Will Shakespeare
Talking about the strength
That love can give to you.
I could parse it in pentameter
And lilting phrases of pictographia
If I thought that word work
And if I thought that would do.

I’d speak of clearing your mind
And setting your spirit inner free
To caress your soul into harmony
Both within you and without you.
I’d urge you to practice yoga
And other exotic disciplines
If that would help you understand
What wonders your mind can do.

But in that poem, I would need
To practice some kind of magic
To make you set your toys aside
And focus on what is important.
I would need to show clearly
In the simplest of phrases,
That living life honestly can charm
If you remove all that is discordant.

I would write you such a poem
That repeating it out loud would
Let you be happy with being you
And let you give up being proud
Or lazy or arrogant or angry
And clear your horizons away
Of any roadblocks or envy
And remove every dark cloud.

Over the passage of time
Things got slowly better.
I began to hold my head up;
Rejected that lavendar letter;
The big “F I had to wear.
It originally meant ‘fairy’.
Later it meant ******, but
They still called me ‘Mary”.

They called me ‘“******”
And hurtful words like “shim”
When they referred to me;
They said “her” and not “him”.
It was so widespread that
The jokes were ever-present.
Life for a guy like I was then
Was seldom rewarding or pleasant.

There was no place back then
For those who were different.
The kindest word for the media
Could only be 'diffident'.
The world could only see us
As clowns and comic relief
But socially we rated somewhere
Below baby ****** and a thief.

So. we started marching
And coming out to our friends.
Later we would come out at work
But the discrimination did not end.
I was told not to put the picture
Of my lover on my office desk.
And I had to agree or else I would
Put my meager salary at risk.

When lovers were sick in hospital
We were not allowed to decide
How they would be treated at all
Our access to them was denied.
Family members, even haters
Were allowed to make the choices
And we were brushed to one side
As if they couldn't hear our voices.

Meanwhile co-workers ranted
If we used words like “my husband”.
We were treated the same as if
We were some ditzy cousin
They kept in the attic or a home
For the terminally strange and sick.
No matter when we stood up
We got the ***** end of the stick.

Today things are a bit better,
But, we have seen the pendulum swing.
Strange fake Christians get control
And reason stops meaning anything.
Jesus, who preached love and peace
Is used as a seemingly holy excuse
And, still today, many decent people
Never see through this awful ruse.

You gave us angels and demons
And no lessons on fighting evil
Except for us to pray
The demons away
And put angels please
On our Christmas trees.

You designed specious poetry
And insisted it was truth.
You corrupted our youth
With jealousy and hate
By teaching us natural
Was simply not natural.

You dressed in golden cloth
And in disgusting holy sloth,
You designed palaces
And bejeweled chalices
As you grew roley-poley
Then declared yourself holy.

You set up rules of sanctity
That you, in your insanity
Could never live up to
Not even come close to,
Because your image was not
Like the rules we have got.

A confidence game by scamsters
Who only want to be masters
Of a race of the gullible
And socially malleable.
Your morals are a mystery
Since the beginning of history.

Our reputation never had a chance
Since the fat boy did his dance.
Here he is to ruin the land!
Mighty Mouth's underhand!
He has never had a single clue
Not a thought for me or you.

He stays surrounded by some total jerks
Who always nod “okay”
No matter what he says he wants to do
No matter what he’ll say.

We should be shivering in our bikinis
He’s nothing but a modern Mussolini.

Yessir, everything he does is for cash
And his family is a bunch of trash.
Our country will be great again
But not if Mighty Mouth stays in.

Evil colluders,
Robbers and looters
Claiming they're patriots too.
Hiding from tax.
And Wielding their axe,
Chopping down people like you.

Nothing is out of bounds
Burn freedom to the ground.
Let it all rot
They all say “why not”?
They don’t think we’re people
Banks are their church steeple.

Decades of cheating
Leaving us bleeding
And then they laugh at us too
Put it together
And what have we got?
A rabbity, rascally crew.

Nothing is out of bounds
Burn freedom to the ground.
Let it all rot
They all say “why not”?
They don’t think we’re people
Banks are their church steeple.

Radical fools,
Political tools,
Legions of idiots too.
Put them together
And what have you got?
Republican dillweeds is who.

Nothing is out of bounds
Burn freedom to the ground.
Let it all rot
They all say “why not”?
They don’t think we’re people
Banks are their church steeple.

Why call me names
Because I am an atheist
And say we can be friends?
And if not an atheist;
Because I don’t do church
Especially the church you attend?

Is that any different
Than praying in church
To some invisible God
Sneer if you wish
And call it a sin, but
I call it more than slightly odd.

It’s not my fault
Your religion has built
Loopholes into your credo
That let the bosses
Spend billions of dollars
Protecting millions of pedos?

You religious fanatics
Might take some advice
And look to the mote in your eye
Before you cast aspersions
To the rest of the world
Because some day you will die.

Then, according to your
******* up superstition
You’ll have to deal with the cloud guy.
That thousands of years old
Idea they had way back when
They had children but didn’t know why.

You know, that guy upstairs
With the awful temper
That tells you who you get to love?
That unseen dictator guy
From a mouldy old poem.
Who runs the whole show from above.

I let myself hate some people,
Just this once, without remorse.
It isn’t that they couldn’t be better
But they certainly couldn’t be worse.
When I see someone hurting others
Just because they know they can
I begin to doubt if they really are
Still what we could call a man.

Or a woman, it’s that way too.
I have seen both happening
And their womanhood doesn’t really
Spare them the awful labeling
As monsters no less than seen
In the worst of horror flicks.
You don’t have to watch them long
To recognize that they are sick.

Why would anyone with everything;
House, toys and outrageous food
Find themselves so evil and resentful
To get into a robbing, killing mood?
Yet they do, and spend great energy
Finding ways to steal and maim more
And more of people they don’t know
And then call themselves sweet names.
What does it take to make people be
All hyped up on these kinds of games?

And why do others applaud them
And act like they are something great?
Go ahead, come up with some excuses.
I’ll be patient and sit and just wait.
What could make a person believe
That genocide, embezzlement and theft
Are they only ways they can have fun?
That there is nothing more fulfilling left?