This is a stick up

From the land where the wind blows on the noble

Hands in the air
This is a stick up
your humanity or your ideology?

In America
where we auction off
to the highest bidder…
these felons
ain’t telling,
nefarious plans
lie in your face
while stealing from
the offering plate,
they want me
do the impossible
and bend
my knee…
to the Golden Calf
in a half century
of existing
I have no
provisions for defeat.

I can’t comply
with the fact
that they can’t see
for the plank
in their eye.

For them
The golden rule
is for
rubes and tools,
what they honor
is idolatry
built on a
foundation
of shifting sand
and
sycophantic
leans…
where up is down
and
kindness is wickedness.

You can’t squeeze
blood from a turnip
nor can you get
wisdom, understanding
and humanity…
from obese men
who’ve never
bent their knee
to the Almighty…

the travesty
and sacrilege…
all
in full view
of your kids.