This is the church
and this is the steeple.
Open the door
but don’t let in all the people.
Those who are passing the buck
are the same passing shit-talking phrases
about who and how someone loves and expresses–
all before and after uttering bed and breakfast graces.
Their one-way golden ticket to Heaven
belongs to the one with expensive, wasteful wheels
that they sit and spin all their lives in–
–while the person beside them can only dream of their next meal.
Those who are passing that damn withering buck
are those who’d rather party with King Joel Osteen
than have a peaceful, beautiful, everlasting love
with those with hearts and hardly a hint of sheen.
They make their holy rules and regulations galore
for breaking the holy body and drinking the holy blood.
Yet they’ll never, ever, ever even think twice about
locking the door to keep from saving us from the floods.
Sunday comes, Sunday goes, Sunday rolls by and by.
So, they get up from the seats after weekly preaching
to head to the nearest big-box store, where they waste
even more throat, not getting their way followed by grating screeching.
In their Sunday best, paid for by what could’ve gone to food,
shelter for the poor directly after their compulsory mass.
But whether they’re inside or outside those four walls,
silver spoons are eternally ensconced in their asses.
This is the church
and this is the steeple.
King Joel would bolt the damn door,
giving not one shit about you people.
– Christine Byczkiewicz
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