i offer up my tithings
every weekend
on the F subway train
starting at Bergen
sermon after sermon
offers body, mind, & holy ghost to a choir full of saints
these fading, familiarly firm seats
demand your periphery acknowledge the sensational service before you
Preach Preach Preach
my mellow curly-headed soul
light up our spirits with your psalms on the congo drums
and the hums of old hymns passed down from elder lips
transmuted with quick sticks & orange bucket beats
played by hip kids with
cool tricks & stiff lips
stuffed with the tongues of salvation
In this nation we don’t need savin
we need a full on armageddon