You can call it being a Christian,
I'll call it fiction,
tradition
in need of revision.
You get your scripture on your television
and at night on your knees
in the fetal position,
praying to a god who you tell me is jealous.
The whole premise,
the practice,
the promise is selfish.
And a wafer and wine
is the flesh and the blood?
What?
The grail to me sounds like
a diamond **** cup.
On your knees for the prodigal son,
altar boy walks by and now your
tunic's undone?
Let my verse be
the nail in your wrist
and truths I speak
the coin in your dish.