One more sacrifice in a time of heroes.
Climb the steps of the martyr proudly,
while shrugging off the stones of truth.
Testimony is a lie that is spoken on the cracked lips of the tortured.
Demented claims rapping against swollen tongues and rotted teeth.
Is this Jesus?
The Christ?
Ask the reflection staring back through the mirror.


Vision blackening
No savior.
No hidden messiah.
Simply a man
A woman
A child
A divine demon
Glaring at you with your own dead eyes.


About Universal Shift

I am the Sonata Unusual. I coat myself with some obtuse angle too far below zero to become any warmer. I create motivation, activate schemas, moisten gardens with scents of natural honeydew. Construct this meaning, you sleepy flock. Silence your singing—despairing contortions out of tune. Shatter the brittle butterfly glass with your hideous wailing. I am born of my god’s imagination. When I die I shall meet him. For there are many things to discuss over tea…or scotch.

Posted on December 6, 2011, in Author, Fiction, poetry, Religion and Spirituality, Spirituality and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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