lay preacher
with a face full of intermittent bad teeth
your mouth resembled a piano keyboard,
like headstones in an old cemetery
suffering terribly with subsidence,
and as you stutter and stammer
your way through a self justifying tirade,
its clear to see that the greed in thee
has turned your once organic heart to suede,
and as you suckle at the teat of insincerity
whilst stoking the fires of avarice,
you’ve learnt little but the joy of overindulgence
coupled with a mirrored glare of transparent disparity,
but you said that beyond the clarity of your vision
obscured by the froth from a convulsive dream,
lays a testament to an underhanded realm of bliss
where nothing is, or ever has been, as it seems,
your illusion of my free will is such a beautiful deception
it makes me believe my choice is mine,
an angry heart will drown itself in its own rage
life is just one long screw turning mistake,
from your book of fables your look up and then down
snoring wrestles out amid the splendid acoustics,
a true orator knows when the audience is perched
a false prophet won’t grasp the fact of why they sleep,
your wisdom can’t be taught in a classroom
its acquired by regret, embarrassment and stupidity,
you hold nobody’s mind in a vice like grip but your own
its a skill that gets so much better with age,
in this world full of full throttle fools
surely you should reign as a brave and sagely king,
because you must be by far the most foolish
as only your belief matters, others don’t mean a thing,
your misery festers in this tomb
long after you’ve gone and departed,
when you’ve sneaked back into your civilian clobber
the congregation walks home in single file, spiritually smarted,
your sermon fresh in their minds like an explosion of laws
drawing oxygen out, all will to breathe gone in a reluctant exhale,
there are two types of holy men that I’ve encountered, briefly
both think that they have all the right answers and paths,
one that thinks they know it all, the other thinks he doesn’t
they have power in the eyes upon them, no power of deduction,
neither one cares that much how the world is paining thee
as you watch them wither and stress as sour malcontents,
devoured by the ego and blatant soulless circumstance
all hope and redemption absent and flattened,
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