What if I told you God is gay?
Do you think belligerent bible-belters
Would still holler hate speech to the hilltops
In His name?
Or do you think they would reread the scriptures
They say they swear and survive by
See, I've been reading the Bible again lately
And I think I've taken a leaf from my old holy book,
Picking passages for my purpose
Which is in short
To show you it's very possible God is gay.
I mean think about the book of Genesis
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth
And it wasn't just good, it was fabulous.
I mean what else is our planet but the pinnacle
Of exterior design, and I don't mean to generalize
But it certainly seems like that the Garden of Eden
Was designed by queer, I mean divine eye for the straight guy
But some Christians would go as far as to call
God's creations abominations
Heretics calling themselves faithful
When their faith is full of belief that only God may pass judgment
Matthew 7:1 Judge and you too shall be judged
Luke 6: 37 Condemn not and you shall not be condemned
Fred Phelps 2006: You're going to hell! God hates ****!
A history lesson: A ****** is a bundle of sticks
Originally used as kindling for fires that engulfed gays
When they were burned at the stake, people were firewood
But Moses came across wood on fire and saw God in it,
What is a burning bush but bundles of branches
On fire, isn't it funny how ******* and God can look the same sometimes?
Keep in mind Jesus had two dads and turned out just fine
In fact, Jesus had two dads and a surrogate mother
That never had *** with either of them,
Maybe Mary was a lesbian
And I remember the prayer going
"Hail Mary, full of grace"
Not full of sin,
"Pray for us sinners"
For we have become blinded by bigotry.
And forgotten that God gave us the rainbow
As a promise that we will never be flooded again
Either with rain or ignorance
And now all the homosexual **** sapiens
Stand more united under God's rainbow
Than all of his denominations do around the cross.
I was brought up believing that my Savior loved us all
And never had to specify "no ****"
But if you have hate in your heart
Say it don't pray it
Don't teach it and for the love of God don't preach it
Because I am tired of these fire and brimstone sermons
Slinging slurs when they're not firing brimstones
From voices that should be filled with love and praise
Instead of raised with hate and rage
I am a Christian, and I believe in saying the Christian thing.
Which used to sound like "Love thy neighbor as thyself"
But now sounds more like hate at the top of your picket signs
The closest thing to God being "Hell, is waiting for you"
They're passing out damnation pamphlets
Filled with out-of-context Bible verses
Trying to define God
When his meaning is clear.
He is acceptance, He is pride, He is humility, He is just,
God is perfection, God is protection, God is love,
But most importantly
God is gay

O Lethe, take me to your abode.
My quill awaits your warm fingertips
O Lethe, flow me into your hands
Take me to your black, to find me, rest.

Ah… At last, my mind is in peace, not pieces
As my quivering lips press against your hand
As my throbbing head rests on your plush lap
As my heavy eyes shut from the aeons of weary

Your home of brimstones is my Paradise
But where is your face, Lethe?
My fingers ran through your streams of black
But where is your face, Lethe?
My lips pressed against your gloves of black
But where is your face, Lethe?
My eyes glared at your fiery pupils of black
But where is your face, Lethe?

Ah… where is your face, Lethe?
Even the waters can’t show me your face, Lethe.
Ah... where is your face, Lethe?
My bones felt your whispering… tender… voice.
But Heavens, where is my Lethe’s face?

Don’t veil your countenance, Lethe
I know, it is scarred and marred
I know. it is not… my Daphne’s
I know, it is not of million colours
But ‘Tis the brightest of all – Black...

Lethe, shew me your face, I implore you
Shew me your face gilded with strands of regalia
Before the agents of dawn sever me off you
Before the angels of the sun char off my joy

Heavens, let me be, in these waters of – Black...

Somberness, see it sanctuarily swearing
sword-tongue worded spellspeech secretly sunder a number
apart from another,
no ear so keen just to hear the equation
crackle into informal shatter.
No regrets nor bother
among preachers nor hypocrits,
so same as it's sad, their chatter
a masked creature
that fits this disordered scripture
of us.

Aware of a far-reaching freedom
each of them fathomless to their undone dares
to fail becoming one;
they,
all feature a familiar pattern
which matters even less to them
than a fantasy's thorn to their first thoughts, frankly;
they,
who share the same history they're enacting
their manifest destiny of a doom chosen
their fair share of despair
so spectacularily reflecting through
their fleet tranquil escaping
from those fear-forsakened frail bone-marrowed
branch brittles they've rosen
so fro as they are, frighteningly awake
fleeing those fractures so alive
in fashions gorgeous fractals alike
no grit, no wit capable of constructing such a lit, yet aesthetic scene of delight.

They,
each afraid of their boundaries beloved
to be breached apart so badly
only for captivity and nothing else
as they beg
counter-intuitive measurements taken
caught from under the counter countlessly
those captives, their algorithms split, entwined;
so better, better don't mind it;
undozens of them
all death-grasping frozen
from just a slightliest rattle
of the crispy pages bearing a poem
or a *** pinched by a laddle.

Falsely do they believe revolving
advancing their middle
however, with its Forever forgotten
prayer by prayer
for the sake of a splendid soil
oblivious to the seed that is rotten.

Oil-devouring tumoil tactically targets their entire toil
pouring visions filling each stare
for each one to chisel only another
effort-evaporating Escheresque stair
for ground and ground apart at the borderline
they are,
the sharp scraping of the air
gnashing winds under the ice of a somber sunshine.

These crystalline brimstones
spacelessy stranded;
vile ambers, yet of beauty unspoken
sparking like cider, from apples royalty-branded
perhaps even prickling, peach-flavoured honey wine
reminiscing silent lovers' moans
ones a satyr favours in folly
in gayness he eaves his hallowed shrine.

Without answers
a riddle is meant unbroken
shards of their failure, silkenly sanded
faintly, a filthless spirit's essence,
so fine.
Some insight may have been awoken
perhaps this and not another time.
Just the right questions
painfully born from the sublime.

In and on,
however a retrospect away
a new future rises from the ashes of fallen hells
mere memories of an old fiend
darkness encountered
for each delusion you slay
and eventually
even you, as well, will listen
listen to the bells from the yondersome elsewhere ringing, wailing
hailing their soul-crackling harmony
somewhere from above us all.

Cardinal numbers are breathless,
while we,
so proud to appraise prime numbers
so wishfully down to their core,
rather dream unparalyzed a dream
of an unclaimed nowhen
stuck in a less corrupt algebratic behaviour than before;
error-ridden operations so holdlessly scaffolded
our somberness
submerged and suffocated.
Down
down we swam to see sunken cities of sorcery;
suicidal endeavour, hive mind agony
our race means for the next galaxy
yet still a race meant for parsimony.

All in all, ****** in brickly rubble
what once was wall, popped much like a bubble;
crumbling, stars burst our skies apart
fates laughing the madnesses' mirth
no hand unscorched, suddenly so much to win.
They listen, scent, and see,
the ones they miss, and what they've lost;
gasping, gazing up ahead
wings spread, glare brightly
flame-feathered doves of rebirth
released, everyone's dignity
finally freed from the heart.

We're not, not mindlessly suffering a somewhere
but this time, facing this inquiry:
What else is there
reality or not
modality or possibility, probably an actuality;
as we learn to sincerely care and to feel
the current breath, the nation, the spot
they all are our responsibility
doubtlessly and definitely real.

Thus, secondary to me
each second that ***** my spirit dry
throughout a minute
anywhen
as we spire from hour to hour
honestly, far, far too often
and not from now and then.

Primary, however, is
my mistake which I'll hold me dire
I would rather not anymore, ever
divide zero by itself again.
What I learned like so many before
cannot count in this realm of some foreign heart
- now, for me -
anymore
which is indeed my problem
as I'm burning these pages I tore apart.

Shamed and outwitted by the ennobled
the white humiliated thieves and their tribal folks
cried 'attack is the best form of defence'
they could not defend the right to work in honest toil
nor right to respectability and lawfulness
neither could they defend racist hatred and equality
but to steal from a black is totally defensible
this particular one dared judge them and called common scums

Disgraced and humiliated the white thieves
called out the mob to dish out hell's fire and brimstones
does that black sleep with fishes or slow death
Macaffertys of Eastside have been threatened with exposure
get the gangs out there's a crow to rub out
use all options available from character assassination to wipe-out
hound harass stalk gas-light discredit intimidate
fabricate misinform Disinform sabotage destroy block and isolate

Black man withstood all knowing his innocence
Macaffertys terrorize the neighbourhood stealing all around
to us next door they started extorting weekly money
bullying making veiled threats and emotional intimidation
when the weekly payout stopped they burgled
No more says black I am not going to let you play games with me
you're racists you're thieves your are lowlife criminals
the game in town these days is called Republican Revolution
also know as Criminal gangstalking a black who stood up to them

Ahh.....there there victims
why are you throwing tantrums
poor things,
look, you are flinging your bangles out of your cheap prams
yelling and moaning like the indulgent runts you all are
Is it because
you all have no titles
Is it because you feel so inferior cause you're born
on the wrong side of town
Is it because mama and papa never have enough for luxuries
and you get free milk and free school dinners
Or perhaps, you're mad and angry because papa left you nufink
and the posh boys laugh at you because you're *****
and you smell

Ahh.....there there victims
your madness and anger tell your story
poor little things
look how you struggle in the struggles all red-faced and enraged
spitting fire and brimstones as your inferiority complexes burn
and naked hatred consumes you
you hate yourselves, you hate your world, you hate those that have
you blame the rich and successful
you dream of eating the rich to save the poor
as they tell you, you have nothing to loose but your chains
but you've already lost your heads, minds and inheritances
and ignorance and naked hate are your cold lovers
so go f--k them as they in turn, f--k you up good
you are all victims in crazed passion
Ahh.....there there victims

We but pity the sellers of discontents
the stragglers from the lowlands
in fertilised inadequacy and talentless soil
carrying in lame hands glossed dirt of twisted minds
reeking unhappiness in distorted parcels they hawk envy baskets
stirring broths of miseries made from handed down family recipes
cooked on brimstones in hate kitchens they seek buyers
see the hot gloom they rustle up in doom
for sale at cost price or free
all they want is to share their miseries

moribund in that alternative refuse-bin
of busted rhyme and proses
where like-minded asinine pretentious
air their echoes from succubus
you'll find our scribe of elongated cries
plying his woes in columns
in feverish frenzy he piles single words
on single term shouting out
his pain dirges and ferocious incantations
from peak to base he oozes ****
prophet vocabularies yelling anodyne prophecies

fresh from the remand centre of pile them high
to knock them down in tortuous vistas
the kapo Bolshevik was more a flamed on that forth day
raw nerves set searing scalding hot
by cogent worded truths of the carcass he homes
and the vacuous trash he calls a mind
not to mention the shaming insecurity of the hidden
shortcoming of his flaccid trouser quill
hence the obsession of pilling single words in long
horizontal stretches
Freudian slip if ever as the small man compensating
in an E-type jaguar and its extended hood

wounded and raving kapo's erstwhile asinine subtleties
bit the dirt in outrage
single stacking out and our hurt Bolshevik managed two
brimstones and thunder echoes
nothing is nothing and unimportant fire fly into dust
like a wooded king turn to ashes
and look behind the rictus tirade of the vacant small man
to view the miserable insecure little child
who knows he will never have the skills and talent of heroes
or grace the fields of his dreams
or ever have the proven qualities and Largesse of the real
men of honour
But weep not for he is okay at stacking words and heralding
doom and despondency
what else is there for him, perhaps shelve stacking at an Indian Grocery...........

Gaggle of discombobulated thugs and crooks
declared in vainglorious ignorance
we are going to alter your personality
and to those who speak our lingo
it means driving the man crazy
as the criminals put it more bluntly
we are going to **** him up
the man is a grass and refused to pay
extortion money for protection
so we will do him in, simple

years down the treatment
from our notorious enforcers
we are still huffing and puffing
we've done all that is totally out of order
hounded, harassed, defamed and slandered
wrecked and sabotaged, demoralized and smeared
but alas our operatives are now on tranquilizers
the man actually still stands strong and steady
year after year we have wrecked hell, fire and brimstones
any other would have topped himself or gone insane

he's shown us up and we are mad as hell
nobody dares do this to us, nobody we say it again
go read about criminal gang stalking and see
everything on how to silence grass most time for ever
now all we can do is just keep repeating ourselves
in hope of eventually wear him down, push him over the edge
we've visited him with all the horrors of hell
we have terrorized more than IS and those beheaders
yet this grass man takes the mickey outta us
let us just recruit more of those stupid pawns and keep on
quite honestly all this is doing my head in and I am a topgangster