Her Last Supper
Pass the sauce
show me the wine
Eden ahead
beyond this place of time
The plate is empty
No taste to placate
Serving only a small tab
A small piece of Heaven's own bread
Christ is not a butler
She doesn't deliver the junk food that sucks
the men and women down to a level which
the Devil is justly fond
Why don't we just be satisfied with
a small portion
an once that is both sweet and everlasting
Mother would be proud
She created us after all
A meal is only as good if the recipe
is natural,without the excess grease or salt thereof
The last supper was a celebration between
the Mother
Her daughters
the weak-minded gentlemen
and of..
the Holy Ghost
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
