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.