The JC Show (or My interpetation of the Bible).

A Poem by BelfastBhoy69

Alight hearted interpretation of the Bile, not out to offend anyone as you wll see, there is a genuine message within.

The JC Show (or My interpretation of the Bible)

It happened a long time ago, when His magic was first seen,
He'd wow the crowds with His show, the bearded Nazarene,
The word went round about this dude, they asked about His name,
Was it Copperfield, he's good, or was it David Blaine?

Not on some agents payroll, He gave his shows for free,
His reward to save your soul, His username JC,
In Cana at a house party, all was going fine,
'Til someone shouted, "Hey smarty, there's no more bloody wine!"

"What's in those urn's?" asks JC, to His best mates' daughter,
"I Don't know, I'll look and see, it's Evian mineral water,"
JC beckoned, "Bring them here," she brought them right way,
Not to turn them into beer, but some fine Chardonnay.

Another time I saw His act, someone was lain out dead,
He brought him back and that's a fact, that's what "Variety" said,
Performing live I heard Him say, "I've thousands here to feed,
So can we get a take-away and please don't smoke that weed?."

He stubbed the spliff out in his palm, his Master to obey,
He'd smoked enough to keep him calm, that was his fourth that day,
Five thousand true devotees, waiting to be fed,
"We've only got some frozen peas," is what the servant said.

"That's no good" The Master said, "have you any loaves or fishes?
I'll even throw in garlic bread, but I'm not doing the dishes."
They soon got fed, when JC said, " I've booked a trip online,
It's in the desert and it's paid, I'm going for some time."

For forty day's and forty nights, in the desert all alone,
No Google App to find the sights, no charger for his phone,
On a mountain He sat down, Simon Cowell did appear,
He offered JC Hollywood and a glittering career.

But JC was not tempted, by what Devil Cowell said,
"I'm JC with X-Factor, my people are my bread,"
The JC show hit Broadway, the critic's thought it great,
"Could be up here for an Emmy," JC whispered to His mate.

But a mother they called PP, Pilot his real name,
He didn't like the JC show and all of JC's fame,
With JC's Magic Circle card, he tore it into pieces,
The competition was too hard, so he had to kill this Jesus.

And so he crucified Him, he nailed Him to the cross,
He didn't do this on a whim, but to show Him who was boss,
When He died they took Him down, in a tomb His body lay,
The other acts around the town, cancelled gigs that day.

Three days had passed they went to see, His body in the tomb,
The stone was moved and no JC, He'd left His resting room,
That startled Mary Magdalene, she was a famous sinner,
"I've really got to e-mail Him, this acts' a sure-fire winner."

That act would be a topper, agreed upon reflection,
The ultimate showstopper, they'll call it "Resurrection,"
The show got even bigger, bringing in more money,
Now they'll need to figure, how to introduce the bunny.

Easters' now a holiday and JC paid the price,
To save our souls in such a way, that really wasn't nice,
The greatest story ever told, the ending was so tragic,
Is the Bible true and bold, or is it all of Magic?