Your Apocalypse

Your apocalypse came and went,
showered down the innocent.
Your pristine haven
with your god still saving
souls and damning saints.
I hear a whisper; it's faint
and it keeps my head spinning
while God is grinning
a magnificent, mischievous grin
because there's no consequence for His sin.
He sunbathes on a cloud
and can't hear us crying so loud
while Jesus writes dirty poetry
and hides it where no one can see.
A happy literate is he
and his words are for free.
But you'll manage to mangle them,
destroy, wreck, and tangle them
so you'll never listen
to his proud and peaceful sermon.
It's your own fault for throwing it away.
It's your own fault for what you won't say.
And you'll grieve when you hear
the horseman's horse galloping near,
but you'll know in your heart
that you brought about the start.
The fire's heat sticks
and the devil's pitchfork pricks
against your back
for the conviction you lack.
Don't claim your piety now
for Love to whom you never did vow.

*****************************************

At my local Starbucks, there was a book entitled "Jesus With Dirty Feet" sitting on a little book shelf. I misread the title for a brief moment as "Jesus Writes Dirty Poetry." Don't ask me how. The spine of the book was wrecked, so the only words I could really make out were "Jesus" and "Dirty." I was a little disappointed when I saw I was wrong. So, it became the basis for this poem. I liked the idea. Jesus was a hippie-ish figure, afterall. I could see him writing dirty poetry and hiding it from Pop. God in this poem is the Old Testament 'fire and brimstone' sort of God and Jesus is supposed to represent a softer figure who is then - naturally - misunderstood; his words turned upside down and interpreted into garbage he never intended. Maybe this is my brief history of the Christian faith. Maybe.





"There's hell upon a breeze; there's hell upon a breeze. Six riders ride..." AA Bondy How Will You Meet Your End?