What kind of Hell Hole do you reign from,
ridiculous in your vibrating megaphone rant of hate?
You stew in your own bravado,
words without weight
slithering from forked tongue
like dented tin and clashing symbols
on a hot summer’s day.
Our Pride remains unmarred
in our celebration of joy, yet
your mind continues to search sticky brain matter
for foul fecund
to smear our intelligence,
but we turn our backs to fecal interpretations
of what the Good book says,
and send you back, back, back,
you Evil One,
feeling sorry for you,
Because in this city of rainbows,
there is only room 
for love here.