Gospels of Damnation

“TVs today are over-pumped with concoctions of estrogen and testosterone, too much sex being advocated for by Safe Sex and Contraceptives Campaigns. There are too many adverts for hedonism, crime, violence, perversion, injustice, and vengeance.

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“WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE WORLD today?” Pastor Winfred asked her congregation. “How do you expect our children to be morally upright when what we do is preach the gospels of damnation to them?” Her voice rose above the din of everything else, amplified a thousand times by the loudspeakers piercing the streets from Central Park.

“TVs today are over-pumped with concoctions of estrogen and testosterone, too much sex being advocated for by Safe Sex and Contraceptives Campaigns. There are too many adverts for hedonism, crime, violence, perversion, injustice, and vengeance.

“Gone are the sermons of abstinence, respect for human dignity and life, parental guidance and G-Rating what’s broadcasted on TV. Communication has been confined to gadgets of vanity and profanity, parenting left to Mr & Mrs Google and a young unmarried couple you call Facebook and Twitter in search of money that’s never enough. Not to mention that the Bible, the Qur’an, and other religious texts are now an application on your iPhones and BlackBerries.

“When I look at humanity today, I feel sorry for being alive. We live the gospels of damnation to the dire neglect of the true gospels of salvation.” Pastor Winfred scanned the masses before continuing.

All was silent; you could have thought Central Park was a morgue.

Deaths of Right (Part II)

Take care of my children. His voice never left me. There were nights that I dreamed in such vivid detail that when I woke, I was confused, forgetting, for a fraction of a second, that I was in my bed. For the minutes that followed, the grief washed over me for the loss of a friend who had had my back, the uselessness of my life fighting for the imperialism of a country that didn’t care for me. Part of me wondered if the dreams would change, if one day they would be the same monochrome shadows of before Somalia.

Because I Love You

My Dearest, Let’s get past the cliché, I know you are fine. You always are fine. The truth can be glimpsed only through the eyes of death, and to truly

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