He'd not been born again
to live with the shit poverty makes.
Buy the goddamn camel a bigger goddamn needle for chrissakes.
Born again - except the umbilical link
to unbiblical times remained unfrayed.
Nothing stays with you like the shit you lose or the shit you chuck away.
Born again - reaching for the porn again
in the name of the s-s-s-s-s-s-son-of-a-bitch.
Hey, her pubes are like the beard of the Lord. Ho-ly shit.
He'd misheard the word of God
and set about exercising his demons each night -
If the Good Lord had wanted us to like niggers, he'd've made 'em white.
Whatever - he'd emerged a chained man
from baptismal water the colour of charred cross.
Jesus H Christ. Fucking freezing. Who knows what I might've caught?
by Ian Andrews