Cocaine Up a Crucifix

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem 

I pass a tree and he lolls in it high

Above me in his death, his place unfair

Since graves give unfair advantage, sly

In his defense and others, but his hair

Was first.  In holy meetings raised like gates

Of Heaven he raised up his workman’s wrists

In hope of Holy Spirit gushing spates.

Somehow or other he entangled mists

From Francis of Assisi and those nuns

Who levitate in Jesus with fizzed drug

Addiction as if mysticism puns

With snorting coke and druggie barroom fug.

  Charisma glows an evil in each Christ

    If it is blotted by a Koresh heist.

May 13, 2025; rewritten May 14, 2025