When Astrologers Walk Into Church
Used to be the Mafia.
Glory to shameful violence.
Off balanced dodgers,
No reconciliation, by Story.
Oh, thank Jesus.
Oh, Thyatira
As time now diminishes?
Now urban dump sites,
Steps into focus.
I can't bare to mention.
Oh, Laodicea.
The place or time, it scavenges.
An untouchable and lofty perch.
Oh, Jesus, Who were the pharisees,
At your contention?
Why are rotten cotton balls,
Running up and down my spine?
A simple act of cunning?
A spine of stained glass?
Oh, Satan
Lean on our purity.
Lean on our purity.
What we have.
Oh, Ephesus.
Oh, Whoever.
Is it too much to ask?
For equal time about covetousness?
As if it never was.
In telling others how to run their lives?
Thank Satan.
My answer.
Why bother?
I know your incapable .
Oh, Sardis.
I'm far from right.
I know it.
Astounding homework abounding.
My dearly beloved canary.
Words so softly spoken.
Echoes a fading token.
For we challenged Davids scrolls.
oh, Pergamum.
But why? Heaven knows.
Dishing out the dread.
Confirmed by those found dead.
What glory in it?
Never confirmed in advance.
Oh, Smyrna.
Always after the deed.
Oh, New Millennium.
Oh, how my canary blossoms.
Discrepancies forgotten?
A beautiful and melodious chirp.
When the astrologers walk into Church.
But Why?
Advance your pulley.
Garnish your ear plugs.
Grease your train, in your yard.
Turn it all around.
Always your.
{Don,t get it yet!}
Nonsense!
Covetousness!
Nonsense!
Righteousness!
God has his secrets.
Fueled by our ignorance.
Seven to twelve.
God loves lofty odds.
Hows that! Summation.
Oh, Philadelphia
Love Jesus, The Church.
Revelation.
Beginning or end? Oh all.
Copyright ©
Oliver Krier
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