My Poetry

The Homosexual Pervert Son of God

You righteous one, praising yourself in your
mega-church that seats ten-thousand misled,
dapper souls, hands pressed together to pray
and sing with the choir decked in white robes
that cover their scarlet hearts as they suck
innocence from decent whores to conceal
their parishioners shame for all their fucking.
Pass the money basket, “We'll feed the poor!”
The poor remain poor. When was the last time
you kissed a panhandler?



I am the homosexual pervert Son of God,
I have kissed a homeless man,
let him taste my tongue, and
made love to his filthy, rancid,
spoiled, stinking-to-high-heaven
breast, navel, groin, and ass.



For “the least of these,” I have whored myself.

posted by RfrancisR @ 7:56 PM