Come, Let us spit on our faces and split our hair.

The Jinxed to Pilate
Let it be upon us
And our children.
Behold those who are feeding
On the fatty parts of the land.
Self endowed with potty stomachs
And flattering robes.
But their farts we shall endure?
They will not plough the farms
Nor the bush paths
Nor the pottery
Nor the places of learning
Nor the play grounds
Nor the houses for the sick
Yet, we deposit our head taxes
Stamp our Duties
Discharge our VATS
Gas our wagons
Yet, we gather at the street corners
Talk loud, debate and convulse
About how everything has gone wrong.
Yet, we shall go back to Pilate
Demand for the cousins of Barabbas
The ones who stole our milk and honey
Sold us into slavery
Caused us anguish.
But that was in the past.
They have been cleansed.
Now in presence of heaven,
Singing holy holy holy.
Is it not our imaginations at play?
Are they not still before Lucifer,
Growling unspeakable things?
Ready to goad us into highways of delirium
Where we,
Our wives,
And children
Will run behind their convoys singing
Their praises and listening to their despicable tales.
Condemning ourselves
To external hurt just as the Jinxed in the days of Herod The Great.

About author
Publisher and Editor-in-Chief, Newspackng.
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