A Prophet for a Pound of Flesh

Ugly Christs peer through nailed spaces
Flesh ripened on idealist meat hooks
Con-gregation staring in pious devotion
Ravenous spirit starved faces
Famished minds consuming works of friction
Symbols of submission choking scrawny necks
We count spent prophets into filthy begging bowls
Conflagration of the body — see? Do you really see?
To kneel lost in venereal veneration
To love their god served rare
Savouring their saviour
On their hands and knees
Nowhere to go from here
Golden wine proffered by filthy hosts
Micturation as benediction
Washing down the failure
Praying for something stronger
To take the taste away
Sorry sun god facsimile
Not so convincing in the cold light of day
— Jerusalem consumed —
Salvation in flash fried defecation
Sustaining the soulless to bleat another day
Half baked men of soiled cloth
Scream tales of avarice and sloth
Four and twenty corpse fed crows, untamed
Laughing cackle their names
Slave religion of the pitiful, lost
Choking songs of sorrow and loss
Four and twenty corpse fed crows, untamed
A nesting amongst the graves