The intoxicated atheist is secretly drunk on God.
With his Boho Soho
community blissfully unaware,
He flaunts false blasphemy
with his hand pocketed, clutching his cross.
He feels ashamed, a
backstabber, a modern-day bohemian Judas one might say.
Is he confused, a victim
of peer pressure or just another half-arsed half and half?
Only the anti-Christ
Christian does truly know.
To the untrained eye, he’s
just another dedicated follower of fashion,
Another number in the army
of sinful youth.
But away from the shallow
faithless fashionista's and the sergeant majors of cool,
He is at one with himself
and his God, his soul.
Comments
Post a Comment