Jesus Wept
somewhere between the 23rd psalm and another
call for revival the trollopian
charicature we call vicar peeping
out of the choir stalls while the x-factor
lot were busy working their repertoire
of hymns dull groovy and modern the four
horsemen of england joylessness on
guitar scantity on comb and paper
zeitgeist penning tunes on the amped
stylophone feminism droning bassoon
a blackbird flew through the unrepaired roof
crapped in the communion wafers then
sang nearer my god to thee very sweet
a revelation the bassoonist clubbed it
on the grounds it was methodist scum
promoting rape there's always an excuse
to general cheering from the vicar
service resumed eclipsed sun shone again
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