Poetry

Sunday 11 June 2023

Arise

 All the ships come sailing in

at six o'clock in the morning

And I know you are my twin

When I see you yawning

The time has come and struck the bell

The hammer falls down into the well

And plop, clip - clop

The film reel fell

Those frames of us are like

Flames in hell

But I must not be so morose

No the lies are like bedridden aunts

And speaking clocks

Tell again time flies

Well stop it now

It don't feel nice


So what is behind all these shifting sands?

All this scenery of a world passing

Like grains through my hands

Yet ours is not of this world

There are bigger fish to fry

God lives in me and you

If you accept the spiritual ties


Leave this world of butter mountains behind

Rise up from those hills of bread

Drink not from the lake of wine

But instead sup the blood of Christ

Taste his flesh, cannibalize

His spotless sacrifice made

For our sins

And all is forgiven

So that's nice

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