June struts in with rainbow fanfare,
Like it invented love and fresh air.
Corporate logos don their drag—
Even banks put glitter on the flag.
Parades of pride with practiced flair,
March through cities with colored hair.
“Be yourself!” they boldly preach—
Unless your self is out of reach.
Pronouns bloom like summer weeds,
Identity now comes in beads.
But if you question, raise a brow—
You’ll be canceled here and now.
The humble man who loves his wife,
And lives a quiet Christian life,
Is told to sit, apologize—
While drag queens twerk ‘neath children’s eyes.
A month for pride, twelve for sin,
With marketing that draws you in.
They sell you lust, and call it rights—
Then send the bill in monthly bites.
The irony, a sight to see:
They claim they’re “free,” but not to be
Contrarian, or God-inclined—
That gospel’s now considered blind.
So raise your cup—non-binary!
Toast to terms that vary, vary.
But deep beneath the plastic cheer,
A trembling soul fights pride and fear.
And while the banners wave above,
Some whisper prayers in quiet love.
Not all who march are truly free—
And not all chains are chains you see.
R-Rated Religion 