The People’s Revival

They told me not to say fuck.
Said it wasn’t Christlike,
wasn’t holy,
wasn’t proper for the pulpit.

But they bless bombs,
build megachurch malls,
and segregate their Sundays like skin color is contagious.

They clutch pearls at profanity
while cashing checks from Caesar.
They preach purity
while polishing their SUVs
in driveways bought with tithe money
meant for the poor.

They say watch your mouth,
but never watch their greed.
They say clean speech,
but their silence reeks of complicity.

They tell me language offends God—
but not redlining,
not detention camps,
not Black bodies broken in the streets.

They’d rather wash my tongue
than their hands.

You want to know what offends heaven?
A church that gentrified the Gospel.
A congregation that prays for revival
while ignoring eviction notices.
A people who call capitalism “calling”
and comfort “faithfulness.”

So yeah—
Fuck hypocrisy.
Fuck the fear that keeps truth polite.
Fuck the cages built with crosses.

Because if Christ walked in today,
He wouldn’t rebuke my mouth—
He’d flip their tables again.

And the word that would shake the temple
wouldn’t be fuck—
it would be finally.

~JC