Pharisee
Pyrotechnic hands are raised
As eyes are glazed with blind faith
Offering un-fazed salutes
With (one) finger to the truth
And (two) upright in sacrifice
For each of (three) denials.
(Four) of (five) are tried by trials
Of the vague and "Christian" sense
That may or may not exist.
Thus with words both never meant
And scattered over fourths and fifths
Poor chords sear their souls with glee
Euphoric mid-cacophony
Of post-creativity
Then lost for (six) or (seven) days
To masturbate away the gays
Then wake up at (eight) and rinse . . .
Abandon sin and common sense
For prejudice and pretense
As if we're (nine)-lived creatures.
Backroading faith to glory
To escape the bloody stories
Of the dying and burnt out
Tourniquet tithe a small amount
Now, are we down . . . for . . . the count
(Ten).
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