Love the sinner, not the sin

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I go to church and sit at the back while you tell me I’m going to hell

I go to church and sit at the back while you announce the Dates for ‘Men’s Breakfast’

I go to church and sit at the back while you undress my sin, wanting to love me naked

Stripped, beaten, unrighteous, unholy, I sit at the back and go to church, every Sunday.

I go to Church.

I go to Church.

Demon

short poetry, God, felony, criminals, death, purgatory

You would walk into a quiet house,
In a quiet neighbourhood and,
Take a young girl,

Into the woods,
And rape her,
Leaving a father disfigured,

You would,
Take a husband,
In the middle of the night,

And break his legs,
And electrocute him,
Because he will not salute your
Blown up image,

You would,
Empty bank accounts,
Nurtured for years,

By elderly couples who,
Just want rest,
And something leftover for grandchildren,

You would dismantle life this way,
And bear no burden?

I tell you,

There were angels in the courtroom,
And in the playground,
And on the plane,

But I was not one of them.

I will find you and,
Eat you up.

Keep me out of this one

landd09100700028123rf.comthe lone yellow pebble bore witness
to the abduction that took place at midnight.

The man was bound and gagged and led away as
women wept.

Keep me out of this one.

Did you know that a bear needs twenty seven square miles of forest, to live?

Keep me out of this one.

The woman cut the balls off the man who raped her.

Keep me out of this one.

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Sunday

short poetry religion race family confession sin laughter penanceThey say that Africans,
Will have to fight for a place on the bus,

So I am pulling out all the stops.

I am burning incense and,
Turning out closets,
-exorcising demons-

I am fumigating my life,
Throwing out old clothes and,
Trying to curry favour,

-surely children were not meant for the streets,
Nor nations meant for war-

I have found sack cloth and ash and,
I intend to,

Gouge flesh with home-made irons
Flagellate until I bleed sin,
All over the carpet.

There will be gnashing of teeth,
And great wailing,
-effort must be made-

I shall identify,
Church pews with nails and,
Kneel!

But the spotlight keeps missing me,
And I manage to elicit only,

Splendid chuckles from my nephew.