Jesus did teach us to turn the other cheek,
But never suggested we ought to be weak
In those instances of obvious wrongdoing
He sent the moneychangers gelt strewing,
And he called out the miserable hypocrite
In the strongest of language, as he saw fit.
Keeping the peace is good, I certainly agree,
But not at the expense of a bully’s spree,
Who goes about inflicting pain unchecked,
Comes the time when they must be decked.
For bullying indicates feelings of superiority
While it actually cloaks an inner inferiority.
We need to show bullies they’re not “all that,”
Sometimes it calls for knocking off their hat.
Letting them know we will be calling their bluff
When we are fed up with their hateful stuff,
Not allowing them to feign self-righteousness
As they hurtfully nose into another’s business.
It is always preferable to be meek and mild
But not when an adult acts like a spoiled child
Taking pleasure in causing others’ distresses
Probably struggling with their own sad messes
And acting like their way is the only way
While refusing to allow their victims a say!
Written December 8, 2022
The best artists are outlaws
Vandalizing our sanctity,
Our sanctimonious freight trains,
Our parsimonious neglect.
The best artists are culprits
Chiseling our school desks,
Scraping our bathroom stalls,
Doodling our notebooks.
Graffiti spray paints the struggle,
Scribbling defaces the pretense,
Defilement arrests the complacent,
Disfigurement sullies the platitude.
Defacers embody the dialectic,
The opposition to conformity,
The betrayal of uniformity,
The rebellion against authority.
The best artists are pariahs,
Trashing our temples,
Tossing out our moneychangers,
Driving out our shysters.
Look at those leper thieves in the temple,
crooked preachers taking their crouching cut
Spotted souls standing at the pulpit,
spewing false doctrines of idol prosperity
Blind guides for the carnal-minded simple,
scaly bellies full of paper worms from the flesh glut
Iscariot eyes ... silver coins culprits
Clouds without water, empty wells of charity
Partakers of the beheading and crucifixion,
trading places with a devilish grin
Sons of Herod and Pilate
wearing ceremonial cloaks of iniquity
Leopard paw jaws speaking carcass perdition,
shedding innocent blood is a kill sin
Holy laws they love to violate,
lusting to rule with wanton authority
Smell the greedy dogs who can’t get enough,
wicked moneychangers vomiting on the feast table
Balaam eyes receiving their Judas sop,
carry that holey money bag bound tight to their hip
Robed impostors living on an identity bluff,
telemarketing bazaar salvation purchased on cable
Selling good luck incense 6 dollars a pop,
as their alm lips got a closed grip on the money clip
MELTDOWN
Kinda quiet guy, walked sofly, even
Refused to carry a big stick.
Just a few close friends, about eleven,
And they weren’t always a reliable pick.
Never saw him angry, except out
Walking this one day in the temple,
And he was so mad - about
Those moneychangers for example:
He just grabbed a mule whip off the door
And laid into them, yelling
For them to quit and do it no more.
Boy, those guys moved fast, stopped selling,
As if God Almighty had spoken.
Boy, I tell ya - that guy was riled.
His were no words of token;
And he sure wasn’t mild.
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