For the reverend Everett Brown former pastor First Presbyterian Church. He was a man who defied hypocrasy. It cost him his church in a Small southern US town.
Innocence was an afterthought
Paths to spiritual bliss
Seemed firmly defined
Commencement classes
New testament readings
And bright questioning eyes
Created new challenges
While the pastor whose pate
Shown amid silver strokes of hair
Stern Marine demeanor that adorned
Active emotional brilliance
Who taught us Christ belief
And too not just repeat rote
But think what was said
In passages parlayed
We took his message to heart
And when he could not espouse southern bigotry
And could not let 60's child go untended
And when he allowed a simple coffee house
His reign ended as quickly as the letter he penned
Passed muster by church elders
His civil rights sin was the stationary
Upon which his fervor was written
I remember the state of panic I felt
The children of his loins
His no bullshit approach
And that belief was not just the church pew
From that day, First Pres I discerned,
Was nothing more than an ornate building
Used as a social club
For hypocrites that forgot Christ's way
09/24/2008
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 482 times
Written on 2011-11-29 at 20:28
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Christ's Way
When I was youngInnocence was an afterthought
Paths to spiritual bliss
Seemed firmly defined
Commencement classes
New testament readings
And bright questioning eyes
Created new challenges
While the pastor whose pate
Shown amid silver strokes of hair
Stern Marine demeanor that adorned
Active emotional brilliance
Who taught us Christ belief
And too not just repeat rote
But think what was said
In passages parlayed
We took his message to heart
And when he could not espouse southern bigotry
And could not let 60's child go untended
And when he allowed a simple coffee house
His reign ended as quickly as the letter he penned
Passed muster by church elders
His civil rights sin was the stationary
Upon which his fervor was written
I remember the state of panic I felt
The children of his loins
His no bullshit approach
And that belief was not just the church pew
From that day, First Pres I discerned,
Was nothing more than an ornate building
Used as a social club
For hypocrites that forgot Christ's way
09/24/2008
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 482 times
Written on 2011-11-29 at 20:28
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
