Honesty Pants

I saw

the lost souls of my generation destroyed by smoke machines, sugar beaches, masked dance crews, and neon cotton V-necks
when
sheep-wearing wolves enticed wide-eyed, innocent children with promises of ocean view condos, endless grocery lists, indifferent supervision, and the phone number(s) of definitive muscles and tan legs of the hormonal opposite sex -
only to violently anchor their number-hungry fangs into starving spiritual jugulars

I saw

twenty-first century Sanhedrin adulterate the name of Jesus for Roman numerals,
arrogantly set aside the inspired word of Yahweh for magic tricks, citing “relevancy” for the helplessly entertained generation.

I heard

the bass of LMFAO’s song, “Shots” rattle three thousands seats at church camp, accompanied by
an urgent voice impatiently ask a boy why he did not leave his Bible at home - the only thing needed here is religion

I ran

my fingertips along the seams of America's Bible Belt moments before it began to beat the fear of her god inches into my skin - which god, I wondered, did they believe they were serving when they intimidated my impressionable skin into submission instead of initiating conversation with my soul?   

I witnessed

thousands dancing and singing around the golden calf but I did not have commands to break like Moses.
So my stone-heart broke instead;
My hiccuping lungs, like two wounded bagpipes, could not play any longer --
suffocated by the tower of hairspray needed to maintain her secrets.

I was cattle-car'd

to a water-park with a gauntlet cut off by a jaundiced rope which became truth's last umbilical cord.
what was being birthed in the five-foot of this evening water was not new life; rather
disappointment.

I realized then --

That this self-loathing summer revival was unconsciously breeding innocent children to drink from the wrong kind of water, walk in the wrong kind of way, arrive at the wrong kind of place.

I could see

with discouraged eyes that the belt grew tighter around the souls of the confused and misled. Like a corset around an ancient core. I saw the sheep-wearing wolves lick their chops -- they would rather have the young sit in their pews than walk with Christ.