You were Mr. How-Do-You-Do <br />And Mr. Holier-Than-Thou <br />All and none of these personalities conjunct <br />You worked inevitably, beautifully against me <br />Methodically, systematically <br />Dismantling my reality <br />Gifting me delusion and bitterness <br />Consuming what little dignity I had left <br />And Holding the dinner bell over my head <br />Saying “Come Get Some Whilst It’s Still Hot! ” <br />You served spoiled food to the needy <br />And broke bread like the Christ-child <br />A nauseating version of a sacrificial lamb <br />Clutching your cross like a sword <br />And your ignorance like a shield. <br />You were Mr. Magician and <br />Mr. Right Here, Right Now <br />A demagogue to the blinded masses <br />They, your undiscerning disciples <br />Me, trying to catch your slight-of-hand <br />They never knowing why, or caring <br />You grooming them, Harking <br />“Watch As Five Loaves Become Many! ” <br />Laboring, window-dressing, <br />Applauding your illusion <br />And allowing them to gobble up rotten meals <br />Like they were grateful to be taking part <br />Of the spectacle <br />Time <br />And time <br />And time <br />Again.<br /><br />Jacquelyn Turnage<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-prophet-6/
