Chapter 16: The Heretic's Creed

I awake with hope and start
         my day with new life
No longer blind, living in truth
         9/17/2020
 
I pour leftist tears into my morning coffee
I fill my bathtub with their outrage
         and wash myself in their stupidity
I eat their cancel culture with my eggs and bacon
 
While the fools rage
         I get swole
While the airheads live in fantasy
         I am based
I honor my father and mother,
         calling them by their proper titles
 
While the lazy and fearful scream,
         “There is a virus in the streets!”
I live my life
unmasked,
                  unvaccinated
                           and unafraid
While the fearful cry,
         “Government, save us!”
I bow and pray to Almighty God
 
I am color blind, all lives matter
         Equity is a myth,
         “The poor shall be with you always.”
While the fools make effort to erase man and woman
I go behind them to redraw the
lines with permanent marker
         I use only labels found in Genesis
While they falsely proud condemn history
         I humbly learn from it
The foolish and vain scream online,
         ignored by the wise and discerning
Those who demand canceling
         shall themselves be canceled
         as they march onward to the wasteland
                  of that Orwellian utopia
 
At lunch, I discourse with the book of Isaiah
         surrounded by the false gods of the
         New America
That guy on the corner is not a preacher
That raging crowd is not protesting
Why do the heathen rage?
Sit down and chill,
         you might learn something
 
At supper, I sit in the atrium of the
         School of Athens
         listening to Plato
                  while keeping one eye on
                  Socrates
(Homer lingers nearby, scribbling quietly,
         his plate untouched)
For dessert, another helping of leftist tears,
         chilled, poured on my ice cream
Their forced misery and vain outrage
         are sweet balms upon my soul
 
The confessions of Augustine and
         the tragedy of Achilles
Are as a warm blanket around my cold flesh
Psalm 139 is my bedtime prayer
 
Proud to stand for the truth and right
Defender of the heartbeat still unborn
I am awake
 
I am a Heretic