Holy spinning heads
At the pulpit
Practice nothing
And they follow:
Blind to notions
Not their own
From planted heads.
Theirs is a world
With no reality;
A tripping image
Of typeset words:
A belief in belief,
A faith in nothing.

Bash my brains
On permalum walls,
Resounding and denting,
Achieving nothing!
Raise his hand
To a stronger light:
A floodlight!
Is the power on?

Golden goblets and
Gowns of silk
“Give generously . . .
. . . We’re poor!”
Reverend hypocrite
Standing at the pulpit,
Leading the way for
Pew upon pew
Of vacant bodies
In a lip service
Mimic game.
See them stand and sit
And kneel and bless
And chant
And think of sand and beach
And dinner.

Bash my brains
On permalum walls,
Resounding and denting,
Achieving nothing!
Raise his hand
To a stronger light:
A floodlight!
Is the power on?

Not open minded;
Closed to realities
Unseen by eyes.
Hiding insecurities;
Bury themselves in
Worthless trivia.

What’s a lifetime
To an eternity?

Nothing.