In God we doubt

I doubt myself and the songs I sang: "Christ first - money second!";
but then I look at my hand. Did I really meant it or was I doing the
right things - like bitches do clients, did I do God for seconds?
Was I really in it to resolve and forsake every thing for reckoning...
All people know gray-ops no black and white matters get past meh!

I doubt my goals and ventures beyond - good and evil looks the same;
angels and devils just with different titles behind and affront names...
Many fair games bane on the retirement of the Cross to have theirs;
taking time for the manor and car, while Christs bones are dry-in
the sun. The cathedrals we build to hide our ambition and shames!

I doubt the callings for so many doors got their numbers upside down;
some are fallen from the roof or behold on mountaintop; while bowing
like bowling pin-ups cherry picking the dinner tables for a Greek church,
what never happened. So many sermons are explicitly well merged
with authentic stand-up comedies and diagrams, while Hell is short on fans!

I doubt the fasting's and well ate supers. When ever Christians do; I hide
my eyes from rehearsed tears. What do we know about poverty: maybe QWERTY.
Or perhaps OWERTY is our power-trip to nowhere really but some clue,
to have few letters in the line for a star in the sky - maybe a satellite with our name
or  red kryptonite, to season the blight for the Superman's defiant heist and smite...

In God we doubt - saying one thing - meaning others, like drunkards spitting our beards;
blowing hot winds and raising the stakes of cattle we never nourished nor shepherd...
Calling on every Genitive whether genuine or possessed by incentive stagnantly weird;
how many contemporaries do prophets have and how many schools or students fed...
Still wrong doings are like scarecrow'ed shoings without the string-man's ordeal nothing is real!

Who is moved by God and who is mowed by Money; who shown off by Fame; who erode
by cunning. Herod and Pilate still friends while gas-masking Jesus.Why should this be not funny?
Still the harlequin amuses to intrigue the inquiries, like Charlemagne on Charleston implores
too queer to be a cheer-leader... Words spoken more than wise men can remain silently stunning
as the breasts feed themselves their poison and filth - the cancer is just a byproduct to keep running!

I doubt myself to go on, but keep kicking. Is there wisdom in man, what deserves to be?
Since Samson and Solomon all is Digimon fused with Rashomon, to have OMON close the deal;
Amon-Ra had a recipe and opened his bra... I had more blah to say, but it was blatantly obvious;
just lacking some blood... Gotta catch the next insanity before someone pushes over the rift first!
Why is it important to know Christs birthday, when we cannot remember to visit our grandparents - say?