When Demas Wouldn’t Leave
For Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this
present world . . .
St. Paul, 2 Tim. 4:10
How cold the hard harrow, the broken spine,
now that the crooked crosiers cadge the creeping populum,
no need to forsake, but gild the branch and vine,
where the herd’s as good as gold, but the fountains excrementum
Demas went out from us, and the old man hurt, took it hard,
when his ember faded into the furnace of the Lord,
but we have blaze ahead, and they are thick with us as lard,
these wolves disguised as sheep, these investors in the Word
O say can he she, by the dawn’s early blight,
How the Amazon fires while the photos are cropped,
How the horns disappear, with their tails out of sight,
Though their mouths are still open from where the corks popped
Demas he left us, but they’re coming apace,
To save them from us and the whole human race,
Where they’ll tinker and tailor with prayers and such
Before returning to Rome, with their lust unto lust
Topic: User Poems (Read 74994 times)