The alacrity of verity's slippery-sheathed factuality

on the slick lips and busy hips of those

predisposed to sticky sin

is

sickening.

Make a shocked choirboy 'O',

raise holy cards and fluster demons away,

sport medallions, rosaries and plaster statues -

statutes doan mean a thang.

In the Chapel of the Blind, the one-eyed bloke

is king.

~

Those two soldiers who gambled for Christ's robe

were more honest

in their avarice than those who dice for souls,

those sharks who attest

they're fruitarian when in fact, they lust

for flesh,

rapacious hammerheads a-thrash among

stunned schools of little fish,

who know precisely whom to pursue, those children suited

best,

those to groom, to lapel, sacristy-propel,

to give a secret, sipping sup, to minister a hush,

berate all mewls of protest –

This...

This is good for you, you know, this...

this... christening,

this chastening, think...

think of Christ's suffering on the cross.