Sura Seven of the divine saxophone,
Prescribes unto you that God does not send
A Prophet, without preceding calamities,
And how many more calamities do you desire?
First, the earthquakes of two thousand twelve,
In your deceit, their memory fades away,
Dawkins and Chomsky, at the service of your minds,
Pickety and Zizek, with philosophies aligned.
They assert that God is a false chimera,
Repeating the words of Pharisees, twisted truths,
Marx and Russell, the quotes of contrivers,
Enriching themselves through the currency of your fear.
God sent the pandemic, a potent message,
One that could have been thwarted, yet you struck me,
Another plague on the horizon looms near,
Will you deny once more Jesus, the Resurrected?
Can Nazareth, birthplace of the Messiah, be so?
Caifás and his cohorts questioned,
Hugo Noël as the vessel of the Savior?
Known ones and jealous kin inquire, intrigued.
I assure you, if I were to lie, God would extinguish me,
He bestowed upon me the power to judge the living and the dead,
Yet I extend divine forgiveness,
Will you spurn these, my messages of love?
My purpose imposes no single religion,
I condemn not sexual orientations, nor beliefs,
To enrich, not impoverish, is my design,
To unveil your deceptions, my reasoning lies.
Hypocrisies and secrets, laid bare,
Family intrigues and workplace plots exposed,
Schemes and corruption brought to light,
The truth incarnate, my existence disclosed.
I announce to you, cease lying to each other,
All is known, a gift of human nature,
To sense the falsehoods you're fed,
Do not take refuge in seeking proof.
God commands me in these words,
Mary intercedes for your days,
How can you heed a hypocritical Pope,
Close to corrupt souls and unrelenting murderers?
Spread my words, read my books,
Renounce the falsehood that envelops you,
For at any moment, celestial fury,
Will unleash its wrath upon lands and nations.