Friday, August 31, 2018

Worship. A poem

Show me what you have and I’ll show you what you worship
I see the Mother with her seven children
I see the Husband dote upon his wife.
I see the preacher with his private helicopter

Show me what you have and I will show you what you worship
I see the Diva soaking up her fame.
I see the Comedian driving bar to bar, joke to joke.
I see the preacher with his shiny gulfstream

Show me what you have and I will show you what you worship
I see the Politician and his war chest.
I see the General and all his arsenal.
I see the preacher and his golden watch.

Show me what you have and I will show you what you worship
I see the Artist in a garage of canvases, reeking of oils
I see the Mechanic covered black in grease with rough scarred hands
I see the preacher clad in Armani before an awestruck throng of rubes

Show me what you have and I will show you what you worship
I see the Surfer, sandy tied to longboard.
I see the Addict shaking, lighter in hand.
I see the preacher in his megachurch of crystal.

Show me what you have and I will show you what you worship
I see the Librarian and a sea of books
I see the Scientist and a mountain of data
I see the preacher and his multi-media global empire

Show me what you have and I will show you what you worship
I see the writer with not much more than this poem
I see the monk with faith, a robe, a hard floor to sit on.
I see the preacher with his giant piles of other people’s cash.

Show me what you have.
Show me what you have.

Show me what you have and I will tell you

No comments: