Bush League Worldliness

Tiny little Dutch pharisees
Calling police, demanding investigations
Hiding deep in the darkness behind rocks and trees
Victims of your own machinations
Afraid of the internet, setting everything to private
Hoping everyone will just forget it
Denying the existence of crazy poets in other nations

It’s like no one has ever said anything mean to you
That’s just something no one ever dared do
Walking around like some princes of the Sanhedrin
With no idea how to demand forgiveness or to offer it
Preaching holiness as a people forgiven
While sucking black ichor from the witch’s tit

The city you live in bears my name
Try to forget that
Hide it under a hat
Keep piping your dogma, impotent and lame
I give you your tiny little towns
Tiny little clowns
I’ll keep writing my poems of my honey-haired dame

Not yours, but mine
Yours is out there somewhere
But mine is in my head
You hope I go nowhere
So you can be kings of the land of the dead
And keep feeding your people turpentine

They look to you to learn forgiveness and love
But they see you run hiding when someone gives you a shove
With your limp lines about civility and propriety
And your solution of avoiding anyone with notoriety
You pipe lines about kindness and sobriety
While excommunicating a disciple of God with merciless rapidity

This is what they did to the Messiah
Your forefathers of old
Now two thousand years later, what kind of stories get told?
You look like the angels’ pariah

My next book won’t be in Spanish
Your infamy isn’t going to vanish
If only your whole crew wasn’t so slavishly devoted to you
Because to be frank, this looks kinda bad for them too
I can’t believe none of them can talk any sense into you

But you’ve got your army of alleged messianic rabbis
Taking your money and singing you lullabies
Not a one of you knows a thing about conflict resolution
None of you have found a working solution
The smoke of your shame and pride
Drowning everyone like the high tide
Fills your land with spiritual pollution

I’ll tell everyone what I see
Which you insist will be based on a bad memory
So I’ll do it with glee
Anything to make you happy
You’re the ones who like to call the police on me
And no, that kind of garbage isn’t funny
People don’t take that godless hatred lightly
Especially monk poets with PTSD
Which is why the Apostles said to take matters to the Almighty
So I’ll never communicate with any of you unless you first call me
You’re perfectly safe in your sistine ambulatory

You’ve done more than ample
Giving everybody a sickening example
Of what Jesus had to deal with from the pharisees
Doing whatever you please
Spiritual monkeys swinging from trees
You can only be described accurately with derogatory hyperboles

Ejecting God’s people from your synagogues
In your encircled wagon train of demagogues

This is why people hate the New Testament
It doesn’t mince words, so they just hate it
They can’t relate to it
They can’t find anyone to live up to its single commandment
Of loving your neighbor
Apparently your most difficult labor

I really thought you could do better
But it seems you still can’t
Still living the life of a Christian ant
I’ve pushed every button, pulled every lever
Nothing changes you for even a moment
All you can do is ever be silent
But I could never be that kind of violent

So all I’ll ever do, is hold out my hand to you
And wait for that thing which you will never do
Because you don’t look like you have it in you
To do what that pharisee Nicodemus had the balls to do
He was far richer and smarter and more powerful than you
But the key was that he was more humble and courageous too

Since the founding of Israel your remnant has never grown
But I’m coming on my rusty roan
With a megaphone

How do you want to be remembered?
As someone characterologically dismembered?

You think it will accomplish anything, taking down your pictures and videos and going away?
This has been going on for more than a day
I’ve tried to forget you a thousand times
But God branded me with you as punishment for my crimes
And forced me to return to that tiny little land in which you stay
Even showing me that I have 0.3% Ashkenazi DNA
And sent me to that race which you claim as your brothers
So I can turn them from being people like you into genuine, actual lovers
So they’ll recognize Elijah as their friend
During the time of the end

You want to be seen as something different?
Show something different
Have some balls
Take down the walls
Nobody cares about your holy synods
We’ve had thousands of years of whitewashed facades

Everywhere I’ll go in Israel to speak
They’ll always ask me how I got here, and what do I seek
“van Ouwerkerk” will form the opening line of my response
So what kind of legacy do you hope to ensconce?
It just won’t be possible to lie about my history
So think about the effect you’ve had on me
Life is a story
And I am a writer
A knight of truth and a freedom fighter
They’re going to hear something
Maybe you should do something

So I’ve gone ahead and put it out there
I’ve appealed to your vanity
Will it produce any sanity?
Let me be the foul-mouthed bad guy
But get the beam out of your eye
Because there is nothing worse than somebody who doesn’t even care
Who hits delete with nothing but a blank stare
And that is what they’ll see
Obey the king rather than blaming me

Just nothing
Completely blank
Except for the memory you gave me, which stank
Nothing will light a fire under you
You won’t even tell me that if I put your name in a book, you’ll sue
Just report me to the authorities and disappear
Okay, that’s what the world will hear

You don’t have to be what I accuse you of being
You don’t have to be what I’m currently seeing

Worse than the adulterous lover
Is the false brother
Take it from my heavenly commander

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