...The SaintsAwards Project...

Poetry

A heaven of brutes
By Njoku SaintJerry A.

Last night somebody stabbed the preacher
I was watching.

All the infidels applaud him
A toast for the fool
Let your God make you rich
Only poor hungry souls cry at night

Brother Infidel had more money, much more money and power
The church loved him
Then he gets a seat at the pulpit
He garb the robe of deaconry
Although he hate the church like shit
The church love his wicked money

This man killed six humble souls that worked for him
Locked them corpse
And went to church
All hail my deacon
All the holy infidels applaud him

The other day Brother Clergy laid my girl
On my mother,s bed
Then he journeyed a hundred mile
To guest other brand of black flocks
Many humble souls expecting miracle
All the holy infidels applaud him
I speak the truth
Didi got preggy and 'borted

We sat at the pew
They stormed the pulpit
They defecate on the microphone
All the holy infidels applauded them
Who hate the very God they claim to serve

O' holy heaven
O' holy heaven of love, peace and righteousness
When were your seats sold
When were your seats sold to Mr. Clergy
Who traded the deaconry for a dollar

Brother George threatened to let the cops roast me
I only asked for my wages
The fruit of my toil
Honestly, I worked for Brother George
Then he went amidst the fellow black flocks
And bloated over my sweat
Brother George had more money
Much more money now
The church loved his wicked money
Then he gets a seat at the pulpit
My money in his pocket
All the holy infidels applaud him

O'holy heaven of gold
Pure gold streets peace and love lane
What become of your eye of sieve
That these infidels look into it and wreck abomination
The goats taken the sheep pen
The tares overgrown the corns
The field is ripe with undesired harvest
All holy infidels garbed in heavenly frock
Marching to heaven?
I rather rest here
And the wicked be wiped away
To their hell of a heaven
A heaven of brutes

SaintJerry A. 2002