Poetry

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One Alienated Man
By Patricia Backora, author of the book
Tough Love in Christ’s Millennium
Which you can order online from: http://www.publishamerica.com


I’d better stop singing so joyfully.
Those gloomy mummies are staring at me.
Why won’t anyone sit near me?
Do I have cooties?
Why won’t anyone talk to me?
What makes them act so snooty?

They came to church just to show off
Smug little smiles, noses aloft
I’m tempted to go hang out at the bar
With people whom life has likewise scarred.

How embarrassing, my vast, empty pew
How everyone turns to stare at you.
I’d better sit closer to the rear.
Why do I even waste my gas coming here?

What a stale sermon, what deadpan faces.
They’re hardly sitting in heavenly places.
This place reminds me of a morgue.
Are they staging this show to honor the Lord?

Pastor’s barred me from church committees
Till I learn to live responsibly.
Those proverbs he picked stung like a bee
Preaching on sloth, he stared holes through me.

Hard on its heels came a sermon on tithing
He hollered real hard and had me a-writhing.
The only time I see him excited
Is when it’s time to feather his nest.

He thinks it’s my fault I’ve been laid off
And life is so unrelentingly rough.
I’m doing my best to be patient, though.
I’m not so sure where else I could go.

I haven't found a single friend.
I’ll never seek Pastor’s prayers again.
He had that “oh, no” look on his face.
That wasn’t a very sincere handshake.

I might as well just head on home.
I feel so stupid, standing here alone
Unneeded, ignored, unable to mix
With everyone else in their close-knit cliques.

They’re snug as a bug in their cozy cocoon
Hoping Christ won’t rapture them soon
Away from their toys to realms above
To ask them how they invested His Love.

Far less risky to worship at home
I’ll flick my remote for my weekly dose.
I’ll get my religion from TV Land
With propped up feet and a beer in my hand.

Who can blame me for thinking it’s better
Than cooling my heels in a refrigerator?
I just don’t belong in God’s elite corps
I’d rather go elsewhere to serve the Lord.

If Jesus was the same as them,
I wouldn’ t want much to do with Him.
It’s been six long months now, and what have I gained
From going to church again and again?

I should be taking this nap in my bed
Wish I had a pillow for my nodding head.
That sermon sounds so very refined
Christ redefined for churchified minds.

I feel like a martyr for enduring this church
I’d better resume my endless search.
Where on earth will my long search cease?
The Moonies?

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