I dedicate this poem to far-right American White Evangelical Christians everywhere. May you die as you have lived, and may your God treat you as you have treated others.
You hold who I was, frozen in time. He is but a corpse no longer among the living. How far has he journeyed from you. How much more has he become.
O, how watchful have I been to see you unmoved. Settled like silt along the banks of fetid waters; deeply rooted like thorns underfoot.
Here we stand. Host of the dead and I. Bear you now your arms, for neither can live while the other yet draws breath. Come and find my vanities forespent.
This semester, I’m taking a creative writing course on poetry. We examine a number of poetry genres and forms before trying our hand at writing. Today, we discussed found poetry wherein lines are composed from words and phrases “found” elsewhere. Found poetry often flips a narrative on its head or provides criticism on the source or subject from which the work is derived.
Following is my poor attempt at a Found Poem submitted as part of the writing exercise.
CW: Christian Nationalism, School Shootings, LGBTQIA+ Club Shootings, Christian Clichés
Content Warning
Jesus With a Gun
I asked Jesus into my heart! I was born again! I am saved. A good christian.
Pulse nightclub, Club Q, Thirty-eight transgender people Shot or killed by other violent means; God helps those who help themselves.
Virginia Tech, Sandy Hook, Rob Elementary, Parkland, More than 338,000 students Have experienced gun violence at school Since Columbine— God works in mysterious ways.
I asked Jesus into my heart! I was born again! I am saved. A good christian.
Slurs are a slurry of swill. Urine and feces Served at wine tastings. Their bottles are fermented. Ours are fertilized. Drink up. It’s poison, And we’re all gonna die.
Forgive all this white noise. It’s just my religion. A holy mission To put women back in the kitchen. Because I need a sandwich in this man’s world. So break out the casseroles, And there better be raisins In that potato salad.
We conquered the world Just to dump its spices into the ocean, Like tea On a balmy Bostonian day. If we can’t handle it, No one gets to have it.
White pride. It’s a precursor to genocide. We’ve shackled dark skinned bodies And forced entire cultures to die. Go ahead, Write it down, it doesn’t matter, We’re burning entire libraries alive— With all the great works still inside.
So drink up— To the new world we’ve civilized. Or, colonized. Shout out to Jesus Christ!