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Writer's pictureRussell Jacklin

Second Crucifixion Postpone, Indefinitely

A concerned face turns out from the shadows,

Looks onto a desolate scene,

Confused by men's absence of emotion,

Senselessly shuffling as in a dream.

These frail almost clothless bodies,

Shamble past, hearing a silent beat,

Rows of conforming nonentities,

Trodden down by tyrannies feet.

Neon lights flash brightly in the distance,

Beckoning all to listen and take heed,

To the messages from their sponsors,

“Show your gratitude, we allow all to feed”.

Black uniformed masked men patrol the city,

Eradicating those worthless ones from the state,

Executing those who deny the truth that,

The Empire is true and great.

Stepping out from the shadows, he wanders,

Onto the grey godforsaken streets,

Appalled by this mindless apathy,

Of all whom he sees and meets.

The anger he feels about the situation,

Is shown in the lines of his face,

2000 years anticipating God’s kingdom,

Instead, witnessing the end of the human race.

Why have they rejected my teachings?

Was my suffering for them all In vain?

Did I die so they could receive salvation?

Or did I just die all alone and in pain?

Please take me from this satanic paradise,

Away from the cold and the frost,

Why should I die again for humanity,

When humanity is hopelessly lost.


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