Jesus never wished to be adored.

20953002_977972015676010_7152312224405674898_n.jpg

Image by Katherine

We spent 10 years  a -wandering  Southport Beach
You may wonder how but I don’t teach

I went to Sinai just to have a look
Now it is in Egypt . bless my boots

The Bedouin people  have not found a home
In the deserts of my heart, they roam

I washed my dishes in some  water cold
They are greasy but I’m going blind

Would you vote for leaving Asia next?
Brexit  has put patience to the test

Are we  in New Zealand’s  trading zone?
We could cut the cord and be reborn

I read the Times and leave a comment too
To be quite  clear  I asked  them , is I you?

The Bread that is so sacred  feeds the poor
Jesus never wished to be adored.

I saw a beggar lying on  the ground
I gave him my down coat, was that unsound?

I thought I’d go out on the River Thames
But then I went to Kew to make amends

Did God wish to  convert the  Jews by force?
I hope he will be filled with bald remorse

The Inquisition, torture and  then death
Jesus would be shattered by this mess

Don’t we pay the Hebrews  for their Scrolls?
They told the stories , made the Bible  whole.

All of Europe forced to go to Mass
Those unwilling,  burn them up like grass

I hated sermons for  men gave no clue
How to do in practice what they knew

I made some salad green and ate it all
The slugs and snails are  looking up appalled

English grammar is no use to me
I want to go to Norway and catch flu

I made a rule :it is a sin to pee
Like  sex and drugs and eating from my shoe

Why not work out what we’re made to do?
Making babies may be the real clue

Getting mystic, lying on the lawn
Is that a cat that  bit me on the arm?

I fear my cat has grown her claws  yards long
If she liked my boyfriend,  she’d grow fangs

When in Israel  do  not speak in code
They invented it  to please the Lord

 

Do you long fo marmalade in bed?
The duvet’s  bitter orange  matching bread

 

My husband  phones  when I’m asleep
I can’t pick it up, so it is cheap

Wandering in the Estuary of the Ribble
Stand on Sinking Sand and play the fiddle

If Britain  travels  like the great Titanic
Boris Johnson will sell us our own Panic

If you see a Polar bear at night
Take a photo  followed by swift flight

I’d like to phone my husband but he ‘s gone
Get BT to lay a line  for one.

I don’t believe in mourning over-long
I’ll  soon be dead myself and feel the prongs

Grief is free for all of us on Earth
It hurts like Hell and  makes the World seem cursed

Good night my little cat and my tame snails
I’m off soon  to New  Zealand  with my tales

I welcome comments and criticism

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: