We thrust our faith
through native skins
on the cutting edge
of European steel.
Disease was bartered
for gold and souls,
history was painted
with Crayola red.
“Sugar and spices”
and all things that
brought joys to the tongue,
were born in the
jawbone of an ass.
The bells ring, and
call the faithful to worship,
the flock is fleeced,
and the money changers
count the change.
(all rights reserved Pat Paulk 2006)
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11 comments:
now this one is interesting-
I'd make a comment, but I'm afraid that it'd be CENSORED. :)
Okay, okay - good write, Pat. Very vivid and image-rich.
amazing what gets justified at the time - and how
a bitter write, but so well done!! great imagery!
Strange, a trio at a Friday birthday party in April sun discussing this in Ljubljana...
Ah, finally a poem as cynical as I!
You have a knack for sketching in no more than what is needed to convey a powerful image.
more clear-sighted
than bitter
i'd say
this
says it all
Thanks!! No, Polona not bitter, just don't agree with asset building Christianity.
thanks, pat (and floots) for clarification. it was due to my awkward phrasing rather than misunderstanding; my vocabulary let me down this time (does "caustic" sound better?).
Yes, very caustic!!
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