Pharasaical Iconoclasm
And lies change perception
when given a platform
But perception speaks vague
when change slithers inside
Without force framing imagination
sight in a circular motion freezes
As the sun glints off the view
my third eye gazing upon
Her lie remains steady
to lay in a maimed mold
With damaged phrases half formed
Then pause, then clap in sequence
Let the congregation say...
Amen but let the praise mute...
Twelve swells shaped with a faith unknown
But the splash spasms look forced
A petulant echo
a craving laced unkempt
With a name and style her own
with a sermon posh yet green
Because she believes in
the disease she's believing
Her hollering twirls screaming
All what I once trusted
And none of what I need
She is twelve waves unfolded
She is Babylon changed speeds.
Copyright © J Hamilton Gist | Year Posted 2016
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