Uncensored

Dear Blog,

I've been a little depressed lately. So, I got this image of a kid being beaten with a crucifix. This is what I got out of it, it's very macabre. This is not an autobiographical poem, this is not how I feel about the church or the school. I've written other things about that. This is just another terse rebellion and more of a take from an unhindered, overly dramatic side, something with no apologies for once. Except for this one I guess. It's so hard to wave a poetic license these goddamn days.

Bible Camp For Teens

They beat us with the crucifix
Until we're bloody but fixed
They carved me a new smile
With a sharpened nail file
Who goes there walk lightly
Forced circumcision nightly
They tell us what to burn
Faces, white and stern
Called my mother Monday
Almost died on Sunday

Son do not fall away from the light that we have brought you
If it takes us thirteen years we will carve what we have taught you
Into your holy hands and arms and back, pierce your sinner sides
You will learn why Christ died and you will learn when not to cry
The only sad thing is that sinners like you go free and unpunished
Content in their Roman hedonism, reckoning leaves them famished

They can prove it to you
Bible bruises black and blue
Lamb's blood on my throat
Burning up the goat
They rip out the old silver
From faces with mad vigor
Branded with a holy mark
All called to the holy ark
Basement readings hurt
Whips with every word

Son your sweat and blood are symbols of resistance to God
If you were truly of the light, then we wouldn't see your blood
I hardly hear your screams over our prayers and liturgies
You have no need for worldly corporeal things, those frivolities
I am going to strike your skull with this symbol of our Lord Jesus
Until all your evil thoughts and rotten teeth lay bare on this dais

Yours,
B Morgz