Holy homes turned into markets
Where righteousness are being traded
With our masters as subtle serpents
Fortune was a fortress for all to seek
Wealth was a dwelling place for all
Only the rich became whole and clean
Men bought self exaltation with coins
In their hypocritical state they taught
And schooled God in the things of religion
Men made men god over men
In an assembly of most holy saints
Lies the devil nine out of a number of ten
Deceitful preachers, religious beggars
Wild and wicked wolves in sheep's clothing
Sons of Lucifer, righteous sinners
They said I robbed God off his treasures
I became a thief of that which I never stole
So I gave back to God in my little measures
I gave my tithe and offering to God to keep
Scared of the fact the men can rob him
Do I serve a living God that goes to sleep
That couldn't protect that which we give
How sarcastic that men could rob my God
Twisters of scriptures may the Lord forgive
You have dragged lots blood from my vain
You sucked me dry, you religious bedbugs
Yet all my offerings were to no avail
With no much words and less a stanza
With simplicity and no stressful grammar
I will speak of my own sad encounter
I was a poor man rich with a penny
Went to the temple to serve my God
I came back with the debt of a penny
Peter had no gold but a miracle to give
They have no miracle but gold to steal
With earthly money their own God forgives
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem