JESUS FREAKS
Jesus on the streets
Satan under the sheets
Why do the heathens rage
When we don’t keep sinners in a cage?
He that sits in the heavens shall laugh
When he speaks to them in his wrath
Hear me when I call, ye sons of men
How long before ye turn glory into shame again?
Stand ye in awe and sin not one time more
For your pillow will be a hard rock
And your bed a fiery brimstone floor.
ACCOSTED BY JESUS
They form a fluid line
Near the entrance to Specsavers
Suited, polished, hair slicked to neatness
Smiling gravely as I approach.
One is proselytising,
Before alternating with another
Who steps smartly to the fore.
Yet another, partially hidden,
Goose-steps almost jauntily
Into my space
And proffers me an offering of words,
Printed of course,
Trying to catch my eye.
Avoiding him is momentarily difficult,
His hand hovering hopefully.
Then I swerve deftly by him
Leaving Jesus still firmly in his grasp.
my latest poetry collection ’67 is now available @ http://www.tinhuttalespublishers.co.uk/67/
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