In the Name Of Jesus | Poem

In the name of Jesus
Mother and I
Circle the country
Seven times
Cursing Mormons and Muslims
Mormons and Muslims
Why Mormons and Muslims?
I dunno
But on the seventh circle
In my seventh year
Without fanfare
But with plenty of gibberish
The walls of Jericho come a-tumblin’ down
And I can plainly see that . . .
Mother is nuts!

In the name of Jesus
I AM called
A Black Sheep
By his followers
Mother grieves
For my spiritual condition
For the loss of a time past

But now
I AM not
Right with God
And how
I sin
Again and again
Against myself

In the name of Jesus
I believe
What his followers tell me
I hate myself
I beat myself
For many years
With that stick
That same stick
Until I crack like a rock
And sorrows like sea billows roll

In the name of Jesus
I cling
To a knot
At the end
Of my hope
Until

I let go
Why?
Why not?

In the name of Jesus
I AM, truly
A fallen man
Falling still
Embracing
The black
Broken man
That I AM

I AM
Despised and rejected
Acquainted with grief
Not intimate, mind you
Merely acquainted

Though
In the name of Jesus
I AM not
Alone
To everyone’s surprise
I descend from the skies
Into hell
Only to find —
Guess who?
— JESUS!

Yup!
I find Jesus
In all the forbidden places
In all the dark, hidden places
Places
Where his followers —
Freaks who chant, “One of us!”
Pod people who shriek at foreigners
— dare not go

He prepares for me
A table
In the presence of mine enemies
And
In the name of Jesus
They seethe with envy
Because Jesus
Does not know
That I AM
A Black Sheep

Jesus: “Friends of yours?”
Me: “I thought they were with you.”
Jesus: “Don’t know ‘em!”

I must confess
I seethe too
In the name of Jesus
For it is NOT well with my soul
Nevertheless
I seethe with laughter
Because
I pray for my enemies
I do
I pray that they learn to enjoy hell

In the name of Jesus
I stand apart from his followers
The ones he does not know
Whose only prayer is:
“Jesus, please us!”
For I AM

The least of these
The scum of the earth
The dregs of humanity
I AM

The guy
Sitting on a milk crate
During the day
Shaking change in a cup
I AM

The guy
Slumped on the
Sleeping Negro Trolley
At night

In the name of Jesus
I reject the notion that
I AM a Black Sheep
I reject the notion that
I AM not right with God

In the name of Jesus
I reject Mother’s grief and curses
I reject the chants and shrieks
Of freaks and pod people

In the name of Jesus
I reject
The decaying pop music
That passes for praise and worship
God deserves better
I know I do

O you childish, fear-ridden bliss addicts . . .
Woe unto you, because
After these thousands of years
Your ears will not hear that
Jesus IS the cutting edge

Finally
He holds the world in his hand
And
Turning to me, says:
“Here, catch!”