The Binary Prayer
In pews where sermons drone on repeat,
Two genders march in binary beat.
“Male or female,” the pastor asserts,
While the platypus smirks beneath his quirks.
The peacocks flaunt, the seahorses dance,
Nature's kaleidoscope shatters their stance.
Yet in Sunday’s bulletin, all is confined,
To dolls for daughters and trucks for their kind.
Oh, to see an androgynous angel sway,
Would surely ruin a righteous day.
But look to the skies, where seraphim spin—
Wheels of fire care not for sin.
The Pronoun Patrol
With grammar books clutched and verses in tow,
The Pronoun Patrol strikes a puritan blow.
“They/them is a heresy!” their leaders implore,
“Stick to he or she—nothing more!”
In coffee shops and hymnals alike,
They rewrite songs with fervent spike.
"God Rest Ye Merry, Cis-Men," they sing,
Missing the gospel in the joy it could bring.
For Trinity lovers, oh what a twist,
The paradox they cannot resist.
But "they" for a neighbor? A bridge too far.
How small their heavens and shrinking star.
The Gay Agenda (A Stationery Set)
Beware the binders, the glitter, the cheer,
The "gay agenda" they say, draws near!
With brunch as its weapon and joy as its creed,
It threatens their world with unstoppable speed.
Pastors decry this rainbowed parade,
While envying the sparkles their sermons evade.
“Why can't our Easters have this much pizzazz?”
They mutter while clinging to their tarnished brass.
The gay agenda’s truth, if you dare peek,
Is rights, acceptance, and brunch once a week.
A life filled with love, not casseroles wed,
Is the fear that keeps their dogma fed.
Fear and Flexibility
Downward Dog is a slippery *****,
To promiscuity and losing all hope.
Yoga mats lead to the Devil’s abyss—
Who knew Pilates could spawn such bliss?
Their temples are holy, or so they preach,
Yet under renovation, with signs: “Do not breach.”
No touching, no joy, no exploring your shrine,
For freedom in Christ must walk a fine line.
Abstinence rings gleam like halos above,
But guilt and repression sour young love.
The irony burns, a puritan plight,
That their rules breed the chaos they seek to fight.
Love the Sinner, Hate the Rainbow
“Love the sinner,” they say with a grin,
While barring the doors and fencing the sin.
Rainbows reduced to two lonely hues,
As God shakes His head, bemused by their views.
Yet even in stained-glass exclusion they stay,
LGBTQ+ saints find another way.
Prayer circles bloom with love unrestrained,
A spectrum of faith unshackled, unchained.
The spectrum’s beauty lies in its blend,
Infinite colors that never end.
A covenant crafted in radiant hue,
A reminder that God’s love is ever new.
The Gospel According to Glitter
Oh, rigid faithful, with black-and-white creed,
Your rules cannot bind love’s vibrant seed.
For God’s light refracts in myriad rays,
Beyond the confines of your binary gaze.
So wave the flag, and lift your voice,
In a faith unshackled, let all rejoice.
For in the spectrum, there’s space for all,
A love that’s boundless, a divine call.
Amen to the glitter, the joy, and the jest,
May satire’s spark ignite hearts at rest.
For the gospel of love, in all its hues,
Is brighter than fear, and always renews.
