Anon, Ruler of The Pious People

1/? From my poetry collection, "Sectarian"

Red-faced god;
cloaked followers asunder.
Hungered grin
and toiled plunder.

His rotating faces surface
and submerge.
Through the sea of fabric,
changing expression
like a curse.

His power rises like the tides.
Unpredictable,
as his spindly hands rise.
verbum Domini manet in aeternum
“And I am God”
His cracked lips purse.

A cross;
symbolic of the times that were.
A sacrifice for irony.
Gilded green robes;
for the ones that deserve.

The rank, the status, the power issued gratis.
And all of it on a promise
of a begotten, divine Achates.

“Oh stoic human gate!
Decide to us what proves our fate.
Tell us what he says above
and how we are unworthy of his love”

Said on hands,
on busted knees.
They beg and plead.
As he represents
the link to truth
and not at all a priest uncouth.

Do not be fooled by a charlatan.
Especially those in priest’s clothing.

-j.broadway

Author's Note

Be honest, I don't bite.