Curbside Pulpit- By Rich Calvin

Curbside Pulpit-

Here I am, the manifestation of all that is pure
360 degrees all encompassed in skies azure.
Blessed is the universe and it’s enigmatic lore.
I must emplore; that in this case truth reign supreme.
Much like the fortunes of Pharoe once told in dreams .
Behold here cometh the dreamer. The gifted being;
the reader of the cosmos and constellation’s gleams.
the heretic of old sages,
tell us of your gospels from foreign sands serene;
tell us of the great wealth of dynasties of Morish kings.
I speak of the greatness of the universe
held simply in the palm of God’s hands.
The essence of wisdom of the so-called modern man.
Childlike in my nakedness, before you I choose to stand;
and speak of a prophet written in the Quaran
With the love of a God I do adore you.
In remeberence of those that come before you;
they stand over there in the cotton fields.
Some are sure to fight against this hope of truth revealed;
the sermon of the newest apostle who bears the seventh seal.
Is this love of life you so profess or one of mass appeal?
Call to me if its truth you feel.
They say a bastard becomes God’s chosen child,
A fool will somehow become wise.
All the mysteries of the universe captured in the blacks of their eyes.
The life source once concealed circumcized in nature’s womb.
Daily is the struggle before we lay lifeless in guarded tombs.
I cry freedom to the sky wrecked with gloom;
in the basking heat of an average June.
I beg your forgiveness for speaking off tune.
I look to you only to assume you’ll answer my call.
Rise up till Babylon fall.
Instead you seem to steady turn away.
Sinner at conception till this his judgement day.
So I make salat to my creator while some refuse to say;
that they know of the great scientist in a paradigm set far and away.
Like newborns struggling with that first breath.
a man child not grown enough to walk the earth yet;
swiftly chastised on his backside to let life into his chest.
I speak of a new revolution and even so, accepting my own death.
I pray in its stead your life’s beginning will reveal such depth.
Quiet as its kept, it’s been some time since I’ve slept
pondering my dean and in what little time is left.
Struggle to formulate the words of freedom with this my last breath.
My Godly bloodlines rule a place in this cosmos yearning to be heard
instead inactivity killed the verb and truth soon became disturbed
yet in that moment of emancipation I look to you as if you were home.
Innocence of child is what evoked this poem.
Let it serve as the blueprint once he’s grown.

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