I need to talk about the God Gang.
Some of y’all think it is a good thang.
Well, I am here to tell you it is not.
It’s like the mullet when it was hot.
It’s all about what the majority agrees;
They do it without checking with me.
When it is in, people don’t see it’s bad
But it’s different when it’s a passe’ fad.

I was raised in the Bible Belt Buckle
And I had plenty of rapped knuckles.
I got berated when I would cough
And no way could I ever beat off.
I had to say I believed in Jesus Christ
If not I paid a heavy social price.
I was called some pretty ugly names
And I know the God Gang was to blame.

If you’re young and want to get laid
There is a horrific price to be paid.
You lie and pretend if you’re an atheist
That the other person’s God does exist,
And is the answer to every question.
Do it to get along is my suggestion.
Otherwise you will be called a heathen
As if the God Gang really was believing.

And it goes on to include everything.
Almost like the National Anthem thing.
Before every game, it was the same
Someone stood, invoked a holy name.
At trials on the Bible, I was forced to swear.
I wasn’t a Christian, but they didn’t care.
In a country called The Land Of The free
Actions proved they did not include me.

And political gatherings for which we pay
The God Gang manages to hold sway.
They call on God and even do a prayer
As if God was in the room somewhere
And the politicians didn’t want to offend.
When will this official superstition stuff end?
Someone needs to invent something great
Like an idea of separating church and state.

I want to be rich
I want to have power
I want my every thought
To blossom and flower
Into a new religion
Like a room full of roses.
I want to become
A brand new Moses.

I would write such tales
Of exciting breadth and scope
That any non-believer would
Have to be a brainless dope.
I would invent angels, too
That appear to save us all
And appear and offer words
That back up the worship call.

I will find someplace
Where I could build a church;
Leave all the naysayers
In a theological lurch.
I want to write new rules
Maybe on tablets of gold
And peddle my concept
Until thousands are sold.

Then we can get stronger
And create our own thing
Where hand chosen leaders
Can carry on like kings.
Once they are chosen
Their persons will be sacred.
They will have God’s mandate,
So no human can take it.

Of course we’ll do good things
Like a religion really should.
We’ll do charity and preaching
And do a great amount of good.
But what is most important
And will really make us great
Is to teach our people clearly
Just who they have to hate.

If we don’t approve of them
Heaven will simply be denied;
Just like the Court of Gentiles.
They’ll have to stay outside.
Because I want a religion
Where what I say will be fact
And all of the true believers
Will know exactly how to act.

I was raised on ridicule
Scorn and blaming.
Belittling laughter
Jokes and shaming.
Though nobody who knew
Seems to doubt it
They sure as hell wish I
Would shut up about it.

That’s just the way it is today.
Abused children, it seems
Upset people; therefore they
Are best not heard, just seen.

Four Eyes, Toothpick and Brat
These are a few of the names.
You might as well call them freaks
And creeps. It amounts to the same.
Screwup, ******, fumblefingers,
Bones, Spazz and Stumblebum.
Pantywaist, wussy, ditz and then
Plenty more where those came from.

From birth to death it seems
Sometimes, throughout all of life
Some people just don’t care
That scorn can cut like a knife.

It makes people question
Every move they might make
When somebody keeps on
Calling them things like flake.
The condemnation and rebuke
Aren’t covered up by the laughter.
People should question deeply
The effect they think they are after.

So cut the kids a break
It won’t turn out wrong
And the ridicule of a child
Can last their whole life long.

Blank faces, hopeless dreams
Scattered down the boulevard
Thank the barren local streets
That shatter thoughts of working hard

Lonely moms, dying friends,
Barefoot children in the dark
Play behind a chain-link fence
Instead of in the park

Fast food & news stations
Feed on troubled minds
Claiming that the stipulations
Are changing with the times

These days you can’t wake up
Without that cup of Joe
Problems all those drugs shake up
Most people never know

natural glow: white people
on snapchat stories. stop
using flash. stop oppressing
everyone. i'm looking
at you, karen.

“One’s” ok, but “two’s” illegal come a night whispered,

“Run,”
Or so the grass spoke –

     Run like the wind.
     Run,
          But always look back.
     Run,
          So to liberate all you’ve loved.
          So too, awaits a home, only dreamt.

And she ran,
From village to village –

     Blankets wrought pollen.
     Carrots,
          For another’s eyes.
     Our baby,
          The outlaw prior even born;
          Hot on heal, the “department.”

And we ran,
Hopping continents –

     I, so to support.
     Our son,
          So to survive.
     My wife in wait,
          Our second miracle burrowed,
          Just beyond the world I’d promised,

A land, so help me, and shore we’d arrive one day.

I fear them....and so
They anger me...and so
I hate them
I hate it that I need to hate them
I hate them for making hate necessary

It kinda ***** to be hispanic.

Because apparently,
my ***** tastes like salsa.

and my calves are not strong as a result of exercise,
it’s because I’m hauling pounds of marijuana across the borders.

and I’m automatically dumb,

you know your people have been brainwashed when even they start to believe that they’re dumb.

that’s what I learned when the Mexican girl next to me in math class leaned over to me and said,

“You’re really smart for one of us.”

if a white woman has my skin color, it’s beautiful.

when my naturally tan skin is pictured, i’m now wearing “too much bronzer.”

I’m a fake.

I “don’t belong in this country.”

Because my ancestors looked up to this country as a place of refuge and stability, but I tend to disagree,

I gotta leave now?

Take a moment and live in my home. Live in my country. Know how my life works.

And then tell me oppression isn’t a thing.