Allow me to wax lyrical

Last night I was asked to write a poem about the sufferings of Christ on a stick! I was given the instructions to be as gruesome as I could possible get without being blasphemic. Below is my attempt to do justice to the brief I was given. Remember, it’s NOT a serious ode to anything political or religious and if you take offence then (let’s be honest) stop reading my blog.

(Sang to the tune of ‘the times are a changing’, by the inimitable Bob Dylan)

He was sent down from God to atone for our sins, and if he did good he was promised his wings but the Romans they wanted to change everything, were Jews in the background worth saving? And if Pilate had tried to redeem his black soul yes the times they were a changing.

His teachings of love and his prophecies told, belief in the God child by young and by old, but his flock, they were many, his ideals were sold, and the Jews in the background weren’t raving. But the gold that they stole was the tip of the knife, oh the times they were a changing.

Enough of this prophet, the Pharisees cried, he’s not the messiah they closed ranks and lied, but the Christian believers they all tried to hide, when the Jews in the foreground start waving. With their fists in the air they agreed he should go, oh the times they were a changing.

So stripped to the waist with a crown made of thorns, the torture began when his flailed skin was torn, with a scourging that brought all pain in the world, and the Jews and the Romans start baying, for the blood of the Christ shall seep into this earth oh the times they are a changing.

Through streets with his cross he was sent on his way, to the mound that would witness his death on that day, for the sins of all men he was put here to pay. While the Christians around him start wailing, and the skies fell the colour of pitch through the day, oh the times they are a changing.

His blood dripped away and his life force did too, ‘Forgive them my father, they haven’t a clue’ with the nails in his wrists and the ankle bones too. As beside him the two thieves start praying, and as Dismas repented and Gestas mocked Christ, oh the times they are a changing.

As the day turned to night with a thunderous roar, they needed to prove that this Christ was no more. So they picked up the first thing that one of them saw. As the Romans around him start playing, and a thrust of a spear proved that Jesus was dead oh the times they are a changing.

Be carful young prophets wherever you are, take heed from these butchers don’t travel afar, as religion is blind, deaf and dumb as you are, and with different beliefs in the making, from a cross or a building you’re soon put to death, oh the times they are a changing.

Published by dec247h

Ex soldier, father, party girl and generally nice guy taking time out to do as he pleases! one day i will make it back to the UK, but i aint in a hurry!

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