Here I stand a spy—searching for desire
I've looked upon your church
I scrutinized the dust beneath your choir—
I've stolen the bread of life you eat
Your wine has yet to turn from water
From dusk till dawn—I've severed the tie
Between you and I; God and the marauder
Confession brings but a severed down ear
Rabbits tail; now you're looking over queer
"Father: of winter, of summer, of spring—is
there a day that Christ will not bring?"
Centuries of scripture, spinning around
Spinning like bottles kicking through town
"Father: of Matthew, Leviticus, of James—
who dwells in heaven, who have you claimed?"
Oh, I'm a spy—tearing down Rome
I've painted the Colosseum black and the
Virgin Mary bone
I'm marching to a drum that appeals
to the flame—
("Father: of God, no one is saved")
-
Author:
J.D (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 9th, 2023 05:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments3
Impressive.
'Look on my works ye mighty and despair'
Not often I find myself lost for words, but as I sample your pieces, that's the position I find myself in.
All I have left: You quote from perhaps my all time favourite pieces of poetry.
Ozymandius was the very poem that drove me to start writing—such a gutting piece of literature. I know it by heart. Any who, I'm glad you've taken such an interest in my work.
"Gutting'? For me it is a reality check, a universal truth.
PS: please note my public profile/homepage. Relevant message there
2 more comments
And he saw that there was no man, and wondered that there was no intersessor:
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