All due respect to grandfathers and amoebas,
Yellow bunnies, crosses, and ill-fated placebos
But that pink pill won’t calm you, it makes you cough
And that blue pill will arouse you then turn you off,
That horse pill brings restlessness and facial fuzz
And that white, tiny square one – I forgot what it does
Substitutions, placebos, colored eggs, and denials
Thinking to blaspheme and giving praise all the while
With some celebration of Life or Fertility’s egg
Covered idols in chocolate then off with his head
How hollow this apostasy, how empty this ruin
How can not saying His name lead to any congruence?
What is this atrocity that the King is still dead?
The Most High is down low and covered in dread?
Maybe He’ll resurrect from some brightly painted egg?
Sarcasm, lies, and substitutes are akin to vomit, bile, and red.
Long live the living King who redeemed us when He bled
And there can be no placebo… it is written and said.
“The sting in any rebuke is the truth” – Benjamin Franklin
