God’s Play

God’s Play

A harangue, illustrated by my vocals

Flails to dirt caked ears from the podium

And the hardbringers had brought

warning of my speech

Say I am testifying as a God of men

Marked reprehensible, a verbal leper

Instead of flesh, my mind is bricked

According to the whispers at least

Caught in the hail of abstruse ideas

The onlookers swarm with hoarse-

“Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!”‘s

Instruments of flowery words

Tuned to abrogate mine

They are all swayed by the last person

Standing where my sandals bake

Knowing the next will call mine blasphemy

And pluck the crowd’s chords

Each note resonating the speakers’ tenuous ideas

Gazing on the infected crowd, a cluster of discredible material

Oozing out of slack jaws

I imagine them all the equivalent of cow flesh hooked

I step to the side, my shadow and I done

Throat dry, looking to the podium above my own

“Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!”

Jeremiah Walton

About The Author

French Connection

The Ordinary

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