I need God, but I haven't found Him yet. 

I looked for Him in church,

Where He’s supposed to be,

But maybe the High and Mighty got up and left,

Right through the sermon based off an Old Testament tale…

I don't think he ever looked back in such a void space,

Where people contradict their faith,

Gossip through bigoted sermons,

As they offer peace,

Or receive His Holiness.

I don't think God likes pricks who judge his artwork critically; 

Those who fail to look at the beauty, 

The authenticity,

Of unusual art… 

Those who fail to appreciate the way they stand out. 

I don't think God enjoys the slanders against His masterpiece.

The Gossips of the block

Are busy keeping track

Of all the men

They assume with their neighbor already slept,

Not knowing she’s been raped time and time again,

Because she works late to pay her school and ceiling high rent.

They calculate all the drugs

They think the other one sells

Just because he’s black,

Unaware of his internship at a prestigious law firm.

They bash the lady

Who does nothing with her life,

"But collect monthly SSI"

Oblivious of the cancer eating the woman up.

The words of the Gospel enter,

But they never really register.

Jesus preached love and respect 

To everyone, 

That includes those

attracted to the same sex, of different color, religion, sex, and race.

I don't think God is a fan of the way his art is chopped into something it's not

Of the ways it's viewed as an abomination, a flaw

By those thinkin’ they're better because they attend church

When in reality they’ve turned church

Into a Gossip Hub

But maybe God does enjoy the slanders 

Who am I to say he doesn't;

But who are you to judge the art that came straight from His fingertips? 

Who are you to judge the masterpiece He invested His precious time in? 

Who are you to judge the creation He saved time and time again,

Each time mightier than the last?

Don’t you find it ironic

How many enter gangs to seek refuge?

Refuge they should’ve found in the church

Like the good Lord Jesus meant?

A church that welcomed every sinner

Despite the weight of their sin,

The complexion of their skin,

Or the car they drive in.

What happened to the lines,

“Look not on our sins

But on the faith of your Church”?

In the end we’re all the same:

Tainted black by different pens,

All filled with the same ink.

All made by the same Creator,

whether you’re Jewish, Christian, or Muslim.

The same God that preached to love,

And respect your neighbor;

He who practiced what He preached.

In the end we come from the same root,

And were ruined by the same fruit

Who are you dammit!

To judge that which He made and saved with such love, 

Compassion, 

Mercy?!

You are merely another work of art!

Jealous of the other,

Jealous that your colors don't shine as bright!

I'll wait and see,

If I'll ever see a ray of goodness pouring from you 

Cus I'm looking for God 

And I don't find Him here 

The so called home He has 

Yet He's not nowhere near.