False Christ

 

Each morning I am born in

The east, and each night I

Shall die in the West.

 

Adorned with fine silk

Robes I’ll watch you

Toil from my throne.

 

Call me Andrew “Christ”

And worship at my feet.

For I am the true king

Of kings; the one spoken

Of in ancient prophesy.

 

I do not turn away the

W****s and heretics,

But rather embrace them as

My fathers favored ones.

 

Still, I say to you,

“You’ve seen me and

Yet you do not believe”.

 

You scream out blasphemy,

Though your holy book lies

Untouched atop the nightstand.

 

When I dine with the other God’s

And prophets in the frigid fields

We shall warm ourselves by the

Flames in which you burn heathen,

Burn.

Reviews

[Helen]

I agree with what Matthius says, a great poem none the less.

Much enjoyed :-)

[Natasha Ashway]

I like this.
I've had so many thoughts I find echoes of.
Bravo.

[forfila]

This is really interesting, I agree with so much.

I like these parts
"You scream out blasphemy,
Though your holy book lies"
I agree because, man wrote the "Holy Books" not the hand of god,

Plus this part "When I dine with the other God's" because, though its not, and never will be a science, I think there are definitely more than one god.

Nice work man.