Barbecue Blues

poetry.

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Barbecue Blues
A ragtag bunch in the choir stand all in differing attire, looking untogether and tired.
Is this what you expect me to get out of bed for?
For a dishwater gathering of brainwashed people in love with the church steeple
Oh my, oh my. Feels like a waste of time. I could be somewhere using my mind.
Writing a line, rhyme, or verse, cooking, cleaning, or dancing the twerk.
But yet I sit on this red pew bench, writing fighting sleep
In need of something more deep
Something to feed me beyond my thoughts of thankfulness,
Still in a journey for righteousness
A building of restraint, rules, and worry
Dull, dull, dull doing things for tradition
Yo WTF is wrong with this pastor?
Seem like a meal for eating is all he’s after
Forever talking of breakfast, dinner, and lunch
When really the gym is what he needs to punch
The way Miss So & So just said Lady Jane Doe was full of shit
Right in the middle of church service
Oh my tail, I’m laughing it off
Cuz these folks crazy
Their rocker is off
Hazy drummer and piano is sho’ll off beat
Dag, this Sunday smells of defeat.

Two Cents, anyone?

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