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Blissful Poison
by Max BouilletWhen the dogs come,
I will be kicking angels
and blaspheming.
God's breath
is blissful poison
infecting our industrial souls
with fading neon ethics
and corporate gain.
(God is merely
an excuse
for charitable inclinations
in a world of selfishness.)
Angels set their
jaws and shake their prey
until blood flees flesh
and holy men go limp;
left for dead,
they scrawl their final revelations
on bathroom stalls
with abandoned angel quills
and reveal that
sex and religion
have the same mother.
Confused, we lick the loopholes
until they quiver
releasing our tongues from
all wrongdoing
and the kisses of priests and
the prayers of prostitutes
fail to deliver redemption
to quivering flesh
laying spent on sex-stained sheets.
(Left to our own salvation
our defense consists
of pill bottles and
ignorance as the creators
beg their creation
for absolution.)
12/08/2005 Posted on 12/09/2005
Copyright © 2024 Max Bouillet
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 12/09/05 at 08:30 PM Our industrial souls - we are also machine-like, the patented designs of ingenious (black) sheep. I love the idea of sex and religion sharing the same mother, who presumably is designated the task of cleansing both sets of sheets - and the images I conjured of priests kissing prostitutes, and prostitutes praying for priests...a classic Max-attack on the jugular of delusion :> |
| Posted by Michele Schottelkorb on 12/09/05 at 09:15 PM i have one word, however cliché it may be: INDEED. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 12/10/05 at 06:30 AM At least one mind is unshutting the doors, this being yours. and ours, collectively. —Jill |
| Posted by Steven Kenworthy on 12/11/05 at 07:01 AM SO powerful it takes the breath of any sinner. since we all are, this work is nothing short of a loud speaker with the most honest heart. not created solely to step on toes, this poem comes across as a lecture more than a prosecution. it's smart and stinging like many very good works are. wonderful work max. |
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