Tuesday, 7 July 2020

An ode to the sententiously sanctimonious

No less a fit of rage

The maddening effrontery of it all, you come into my life from 35 years ago with muscular heartless Churchianity to dictate how you think I should be living my life? No words can begin to express my outrage, you don't know me, get off my lawn before I set the rabid dogs on you. I have forgiven too many an intrusion, I would allow it no further.
Lacking in decorum or courtesy, without greeting or supplication, attracted like a fly to faeces you homed in on my situation, uninvited and without permission to poke your nose in my business with the audaciousness of a bull let loose in a china shop. You confuse my gentleness for the opportunity to control me. How dare you?
Now you care about my eternity? I was about to scoff. Where were you when doctors gave me 5 weeks to live as cancer ravaged my body and otherworldly pain camped in every sinew? In my days of sorrow, you were invisible and now you come like a thief to steal my joy? You will not prosper in this or another.
Busybodies in the garb of false religion, clouds of locusts that feast on souls to ruin them, who have never known love in themselves or of God, laden with conflicts that they project on others, seeking relevance in their presumed superiority to others, the ilk of which even Jesus adjured as the brood of vipers.
The wrath of God is upon you, for ye all are a plague on humanity, standing in the way of grace and mercy for those more deserving of the gospel of truth. You find fault and fling scripture about like manure offering no succour but condemnation, ye are the accuser of the brethren. Ye all shall perish without a tit or jot to your memorial. For thus is it written of you.

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