Sunday Morning HypocritesA Poem by karhazy and dazed from the night before, i sit alone on my broken, beat-up porch. staring and pondering, i hear church bells ring; my gaze redirected to the ground below. in their sunday best, dressed to the nines, i see church people scurry about. wearing fake plastic smiles and shoes of deceit, they eagerly meet and greet. quick to seat, in unison, bowing their heads, they pray for absolution from a sin riddled week. as their guru enters, without saying a word, his flock rises, standing straight and tall. parishioners listen
with intent, but wandering eyes wander; looking and preying on next weeks feast. stand, sit and pray, paying off their sins, sighs of relief sound as collection baskets pass. with deviant eyes and a phony smile, the guru stands, arms raised high, he looks down upon his flock; "let us go in peace!" with shiny new slates the congregation leaves; only to return after another sin riddled week. © 2014 karReviews
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Added on May 16, 2014Last Updated on May 16, 2014 AuthorkarAboutI've been writing for years and for years I destroyed what I'd written. Only recently have I been writing again and sharing my work. more..Writing
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