Surrounded entirely and circled

By a greedy wave of dancing pigeons

The white pudding sings frowning

revolting bulk of Golden fat

Proud food for his seagulls.

Facing the torches of God, he babbles

While a moaning rumble like a choir of dwarves

Awakens the worms beneath the church

Rotten temple of another age.



Jailed in my suit and tie, I Sweat, choked

by the dusty ostentation, once

sparkling in copper red skulls, and

(did I do the sign of the cross?)

everyone of us, without exception

we watch at the girl in the front-row sit.

Excuse me, sorry Madam - smile, run, escape:

it's sunny outside the Mass

and the floor is caving in.