My religion and I

I have a roommate who hardly talks without

Ruminating in tongues

But his thoughts about people

Are skin-piercing like thongs

He is also a Junior Pastor in his church

In his head we are always judged

For the past three weeks he spoke once

It was a question, when he couldn’t his church pants

He travelled last week without telling anyone

He came back and said hi to everyone

Maybe he is faking the faith

And using the Holy Spirit as bait

But wait!

Is it God’s call, or a further human fall?

Well I think it is to settle an earthly score!

Maybe once and for all (lol)

I wonder how Christians avoid Him on week days

And only bring Him from the shelves on Sundays,

Or when we have a bad case 

He is not like the dais, My brother!

The Bible is given to people freely in the prisons

Whiles it could have really stop the crime wheels

Their understanding is limited even if they read

Because, even the prison mail is consumed with greed.

Our righteousness he calls the filthy

For in our hearts are re-echoing sound, guilty!

Behaving like Jonah we go back crying for jobs,

Whiles we sob for getting one at a shop

He doesn’t swallow as in the whale

But just tested us with labor in vain,

He said our sins were back gone

But we come home again in the sin wagon,

If we believe in superstition

He awaits our decision,

If the choice is the problem,

The Holy Spirit has the precision.

A Christian who cannot give to the poor

But boast of heavy tithe is very raw

Jump to church positions to sit tight

Waiting for the judgment day

I can bet, on that seat they have the bad gaze

Although the pastor knows this is wrong

However, even if I do this all

But my salvation is as empty as a hall

Then I should be prepared for the eternal fall

Because to leave and die is double gain

And I will say this again

If He is not in me as a church

And I walk around as a religious jerk

Then I do so in vain

What makes me a terrorist?

My religion or my own doctrine twist?

What makes me a religious animal?

Is it my religion or conviction that pours blood like a cannibal?

It’s not the well water for the poor

But the wine of the rich,

Not the Bible for us all

But their own doctrine they seem to preach,

Paints the worship centers with gold

And leaves the poor no food to hold,

As they embrace the Winter’s cold

Do you think if Jesus wanted to live in such buildings

He would have been born in a manger?

He could have even become the hotel manager

But those were not his biddings

With churches corrupt with selling happiness to the rich,

They leave out the Richet at places they cannot reach

If the streets are worse,

Then the religion should give us the words,

When striving cease,

Religion should offer the ease.

If the world turns the sea

Religion is the sail,

If the earth begins to sink

Religion should be the seat on which we sit and sing.

And so his mercy becomes the seam,

When everything tear apart as it may seem

Christianity should be the concoction

After the “all have sinned” infection.

If it was perfection,

Then religion could become the profession,

But it’s not just the confession

But being able to kill the sin addiction.

And that with Jesus I have 100 % sin remission

So free yourself from the religion cage

Then pen your story of salvation on a new page

And point the truth to your pastor’s face

That to the Christian novice they are killing the faith