In his image.
Stumbling through the chaotic selfish masses,
whose passing kicks and punches at honesty
destroy the desultory syntax that paranoia inflicted.
Curling the lips of the long kindred spirits.
Lips curling with semi happiness of nervous distrust
Lips curling with the comfort blanket of disbelief.
Brown kids looking at white kids thinking your a liar
White kids looking at brown kids eyes narrowed
wondering if they should belong, could belong..
Trying to remember the mists of time before
the reality of colour became a name or even a face.
When colour was just a primordial event
Waiting to be discovered by the first electrical
Impulses of grey fat encased in wood like bone.
Losing the truth of life, honesty was not easy.
The first person was black the first white person a throwback.
Slow whits crumbling like poorly made cement under marching feet..
Reality has to slither its way in when fear stands guard.
Obsessive stupidity an overwhelming instinct for some.
Brain blindness a natural state for others still crawling in the mud.
The fear of faith fetid fallow fallacious fucking phoney.
When you die theres a free popsicle and ours is…
Bigger, brighter, bluer with more angels.
Whilst we have virgins and fountains and righteous
rolling in pity for you and your godless god.
My faith trumps your faith because we have more
Believers, defenders, fanboys, fangirls, Warriors!
Trying to reclaim lost virginity to begin again
In the image of… its always him isn’t it?
Some should say….
If I’m in his image why have I got a vagina
His cock is intimidating, threatening me into faithful
bent over compliance of motherhood slavery.
Unquestioning unsavoury usurping usury
Taking equality and turning it with the vile
politics of need and Borgia like greed to feed
the obnoxious shadow people, who claim all from
corners of imaginary throne rooms and reliquaries.
Bring your children unto me but don’t expect honesty.
And if your lucky, unbuggered you’ll pass into our heaven.
Amen.
