Lost I
‘Your body is the temple of God’, he bellowed
But the anxious blind eyes were fixed on the large gold rim wall clock
‘Joseph was a good example’ he went on pastorally
Joseph this, Joseph that, Joseph…. he blabbed like a wild parrot
But the black mind had crept far away
The thought of the beautiful curvy intoxicating monster is all the brain is ruminating
The long unending weighty talk from the altar was a nightmare
And men hate nightmares
Pour honey into their ears and purses are emptied
Try being honest, you will have only yourself for a disciple
The child is lost
The sound of the hunter’s whistle is just another fine tune from the wind to the lost dog
