A Preacher's Paradox

I see the illumination of
of the human kind,
but when they turn off the mic
and walk off stage,
they laugh and point and make fun of gays.
 Two moms,
two dads,
even transgender;
all this bullshit really makes me
Who are we to say what’s good and what’s bad?
Who are we to say what’s right and what’s wrong?
Who are we to say
that their love is not love,
it’s just a fad?
And I know you may not believe
me when I say,
that the illumination of desecration
is all a big hoax,
but people take the humanization of other people
as a big old joke.
I look around
and listen when people talk.
And they may talk the talk,
and may walk the walk,
but the talk and walk they seem to flaunt
is the kind of shit that makes lingering thoughts
and words
And pretty soon the thoughts and breathing stops
and you’re left with a shell
that once had a shot
to dream,
to love,
and to do anything,
in between,
but was robbed of every chance to gleam.
And every possible emancipation
 was destroyed by the disloyal speakers
preaching the message
of illumination on desecration
and every chance was killed by
the influx of assassinations
on humanization.
So I laugh,
and laugh,
and laugh a lot
because what can once voice do?
but try to be visible
in an endless
blind spot.


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