Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Terrance Charles Short comes to us from Mission, British Columbia, Canada.


He can be found here:


http://allpoetry.com/Ogreatbaldone



False Profit


His opulence dripped 

like mortuary flowers,

heavy scented, masking death

in a lonesome funeral chapel.


His rampageous riches dangled 

from wrists and neck. rapturous

was the gaze he threw upon the world-

this simpleton in sheep's clothing.


Gathered together beneath the tent

his religious tirade reaches them-

they are estranged from God. he screams

and dances around with great hilarity.


Maintenance of the church falls to the faithful

though jaded and jagged be their lives,

though they are never far from the grindstone

they pay tithes to a pompous god man.


His pretentious prayer brings loose change jingles

into the musty spring night air.

A pre-selected hymn plays and I feel

the urge to Asphyxiate the asocial fraud.



Check him out.


1 comment:

Terry said...

thanks for posting this here my friend