Let Michael Vick Alone Poem by JAMES T. ADAIR

You do-gooder housewives with nothing to do
You paint your posters and placards
With Tempra and stick on photos with Elmer's Glue
Your a goody two-shoes
And a dog rescuer too
God bless the poor dog that has to put up with you!
You point your crooked fingers
And shout 'till you're blue
A personal vendetta it has become to you
Because you convicted him as inhumane
It bother's you, though he's served his sentence
You peg him as 'evil' and you shout as if you're insane
To forbid him from rebuilding his life
And playing in the game
Because you bear hatred at the mention of his name
You seek to rub his nose in his shame
As if he alone was to blame
That he bred fighting dogs
And sent them to fight
As if you've never done wrong in your life
and only do right
Hypocrite…as you bless yourself just right
Because you're obsessed, you can't sleep at night
What bothers you more is he's rich and you're white
You feel a victim of circumstance
But you feel you've seen the light
His million dollar salary doesn't sit with you right
But in your haste to judge him
You put yourselves above sin
Though God teaches forgiveness
and olive branches and treating others as kin
You feel only bitter anger
And you don't allow second chances
But the man must live with his own demons
He lost his name, and livelihood as maybe he should
He lost many possessions in his confessions
He lost many a friend, who could not defend
He paid his fine and did hard time
He paid his dues until he had little else to lose
But still his fate, you want to choose
As if you are blessed
But it's easy to guess
You're not so squeaky clean
As you wish it to seem
He's just a man who has fallen from grace
He’s regretful for something he can’t erase
But he's not bound to be stuck in that place
Just because you can't let it go
and have persecution on your face
He's remorseful and wants to change circumstance
Let God be the judge of his heart
Let Michael Vick have his second chance
Stop your hypocritical rants
And if you've still got the hots to condemn
Got that fire in your pants?
Here's something to picket perhaps:
Your sanctimonious stance