I don’t sing anymore.
Ever since I quit the music ministry
and later the church all together.
I stopped singing because
the band and microphones
weren’t mine so they had to stay at the church.
That store-front wreck
slightly glazed over with peach spackle
to shoo away any indication
of its poverty or its emotional members.
And emotion was all everyone
ever heard or saw.
Even our baffled neighbors
in the two story apartments behind us—
were subjected to a blunt
steady annoying hollow drum beat
accompanied by an old wooden rusty *****
being played by—get this---
the biggest **** I ever saw
with a parade of effeminate brothers
to the right all singing (or screaming)
to the Glory of God!
All singing…everyone
A congregation full of people
ready, anticipating the presence
of God so they could get buck-wild
jump, shout, and run down the aisles---
or at least until the organist hits E flat
(which of course is the universal
Church queue for “Y’all got 30 seconds
to give God a crazy praaaaissseeeee!”)
And crazy was exactly what took precedence.
Guys shouting themselves
right out of their britches
sisters shouting off their sweaty weaves
hollering, high pitched screeching “ho’s!”.
Mytika in the back of the church
standing on a white plastic folding chair
blowing the hell out of her holy whistle
while waving a white cotton handkerchief
round and round above her head.
And all of this chaos was somehow
glued together by a subtle soothing
baseline humming ----
doom-doom-doom-doom--doom---
doom-doom-doom-doom--doom---
doom-doom-doom-doom--doom----
doom-doom-doom…
Amongst all the noise and commotion
I was the only oddity to be found.
The only white looking person
who had the audacity to be singing into a Mic.
People falling out, shaking, rolling on the floor
was never out of the ordinary there.
But having an un-black person
a part of their unfortunate country club…was.
Out of all the paranormal spiritual metaphysical
manifestations –I turned out to be the
scariest **** they ever saw.
Because to me God wasn’t a game
or a religion or a face or a person
or a symbol I hung around my neck.
He just was—and still is—
so I could be.
I didn’t buy into the lopsided myth.
The let’s have church,
throw all our worries out the window
and act like we lost our **** minds-
Myth.
And after singing
or at least trying to sing
I had to quit.
Because after all the weird-ass ****
I had to endure and put up with----
I apparently was the only ************
there out of tune.