“Damn, God’s Got a Twisted Sense of Humor”
Photo by Gage Walker on Unsplash
by David Estringel
I was born a criminal
and mentally ill
on a sunny April morning in 1969.
The sky was blue,
God was in his Heaven,
and I was fashionably late.
My parents were hopeful—
father swollen with pride,
mother already counting grandchildren.
Damn, God’s got a fucked-up sense of humor.
Who else could make a sexual predator
look cute in purple Garanimals?
An abomination rock a school Christmas play
in a pair of make-shift, white feather wings
and glittery Converse high-tops?
Good ol’ St. Marys,
where brown (OK, sorta brown) boys like me
go to learn the three Rs,
fade away
into a sea of beige, and
find shame in their bodies
in the process.
Where fear is the heart of love
and there’s a special place in Hell for me
‘cause God hates sissies—
So sayeth Sister Clair Veronica!
Damn, God’s got a fucked-up sense of humor.
Interesting how the tides have changed.
Popstars and Hollywood
with their puppy dog eyes and bleached teeth
telling us how “It gets better”,
promising unicorns
and pots of gold
at the end of colorless rainbows.
Too bad Matthew Shepherd
couldn’t stick around
just a couple of more years
to hear those sweet words--
no leprechaun’s treasure
at the end of a pistol grip
or the bottom of fence posts
on cold October nights.
Damn, God’s got a fucked-up sense of humor.
Turn on the radio.
Turn on the TV.
We are everywhere
for all to see
and have a chuckle.
Walking, talking stereotypes of
who The Unbroken still think we should be.
Am I “Just Jack”
or the Stanford Blatch—
the quippy, queeny best friend,
a comic relief.
Stand back and clap!
Watch the pink monkey dance!
(Are they expecting me to pull a string of banana-colored
anal beads out of my ass?)
So nice to be finally wrapped up
in America’s embrace.
Too bad all I want to do
is tear at the fabric of all that is good and holy
like some twisted moth
with an appetite for family values
and holy sacraments
that straight folks don’t seem to have a problem
shitting all over--
So sayeth GW Jr!
Feeling a little like my birth day today.
Damn, God has a twisted sense of humor.
David Estringel is poet, writer, and author that has been published, internationally, in literary journals and magazines and is currently a Contributing Editor (fiction) at Red Fez, Poetry Editor at Fishbowl Press, editor/writer at The Elixir Magazine, and Artist in Residence at Cajun Mutt Press and Elixir Magazine. Connect with David on Twitter @The_Booky_Man and his website.
