In stigmata skies Christ shines upon himself, Staining himself red Leaving a mosaic path for sinners, To clean themselves from a dirty priest Who kisses the lamb Then fucks the beast. The persecutors persecute themselves, By being conditioned in a rehearsed oration, Singing Jewish myths through Judas lips They betray themselves. Life’s worst in their Sunday best, Wearing dust from dead albino rabbits An ugly truth made to look beautiful On a pallid canvas, colour hides their darkness like an early ‘Chagall’. Here the righteous trespass the house of God. To forgive those who trespassed against them. Snapping Christ from Communion bread, Which flours the hands of the blind, And greens the palms of Devils, Who buys Christ’s body from the third World. In a Church somewhere, A baby cries As men rejoice And blue haired floor starer’s groan at the infant Who is carried to the back and hushed by its slut matriarch. I want to save these babies. Baptize them in mortality, Weep at the Sun of a dying day, As we scatter the ashes of empty cross shaped coffins, And hope instead of pray, whilst embracing reality.