Mother, my name is Zipporah


Last of the alphabet

And always last

Pure as a snow-white dove

My name chosen from a book up above

Conceived in lust

Smoke-filled room trust

To know my history

is my future

of a love blistery

covered are my sutures

What impact will I make

worth anything does Heaven sake?

Will I bear sons

who will move tons

Or will I give two girls

With pigtails whose heads will lose curls

Was my name chosen from above

Without meaning

Though lust for love

Before your eye closes

Pray Heaven imposes

It was cute to name me

But it hurts to blame thee

What is it I stand for

that blasphemy could not ignore?

In order to honor the Lord

Damned am I minus a male cord

Two did create me in sin

Now, tell me how I can begin?

 

 

 

Oh, Church is just a Fashion Show


Grand words

Statements are made

As they enter the doors

To hear the Gospel spread

A nod

A glimpse

Even from the preacher

while his wife sits close by

Gawking with jealousy

Orchestrated Amens

Applaud the podium

For attention

He knows

 who he wants next

White bears no sign of purity

just eagerness

to be eager

The sermon is so clear

as to who is to fear

Prepped to lay low

Oh, the Church is just a fashion show

A dress rehearsal for

the horn to blow

So the designer will

have his due fill

for the ears hear his skill

and tilt the till

Come see the Garden of Eden

bend Saville Rowe

while his wife sits by

and dare to show

just how often the blood does flow

It compels them all

To take the fall

Next Sunday is

Swimwear

And boys

rest high in banana hammocks

 and toys

and pretty things like socks