Welcome to church!

 

 

Welcome to church! All those perched on bar stools,

Drunk enough to bring a bathing suit to the car pool

I remember when I was just like you, quite rude

Drunk stumbling into open mics, crude

as Picasso with his Lyndon Baines Johnson

painting portraits of my points in your mind with a nail gun,

automatic, a touch sensitive rail gun

through your colorblind veils, run

like Christmas lights strung across gutters in July decorating stale spider spun

passage ways through webbed fantasies one must break through to sip the Holy Grail,

once tossed about on the white sail powered pail horse,

as she was taken to Apocalypse

tortured with Darkside’s rawhide whips

erased Maninka, Fon and Arabic

She said that she didn’t give money to homeless white men

Because they could jaunt into her bookstore and Snap, whip crack, take it

Hyperbole is the language of those annoyed by colorblind explanations.

Images of white men entering the store

laying claim to book, bookshelf and building,

stating “My destiny manifests”

Then along came a pail horse

Drunk stumbling, crude

as Picasso with his Lyndon Baines Johnson

painting portraits of its points in your mind