Born out of straw and what people saw child without a flaw
A baby mystery without history under a star of awe
Words remembered long after, by a book crafter said
Transfigured wine, walked on the brine, then rose from the dead
Pages from many books, taped together while time cooks
Some discarded the rest holy regarded, here on his side two crooks
No further plans he overlooks his fans standing on a nail
His perch of wood raised above the crowd, now pale
He listens to their cheers below no one hears a word
A vulture turned dove a symbol of love becomes the other third
A cover song of an angel with lyrics they couldn't remember
Auto tuned and pitch corrected his performance they dismember
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Offline) - Published: March 29th, 2026 03:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: Myth, Religion.
Offline)
Comments5
good write my friend
Thank you for the read and comment it is most appreciated
Always welcome
Thoughtful write, Sorrenbarrett.
Thank you Jerry for the read and comment it is most appreciated
After that major glitch we lost lyrics and music !
What a shame no more Christmas songs. Thanks for the read and comment Lorenz
This is raw and jagged, like history scribbled in margins no one dares read twice.
I feel the grit beneath the holy, the weight of applause and silence pressed together—dark and alive.
Thanks so much Thomas I appreciate your read and words of understanding
Soren, there’s a sharp edge running through this that I really respect. The imagery doesn’t hold back, especially in those moments where history and interpretation collide. It’s unsettling in the right way…makes you sit with it. Strong piece, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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