Jack Mormon

The Face of God
is easily found
by photographing directly into the sun.

There is a
high risk of burnt corneas,
permeant blackness,
for those who seek.

Satan,
playfully,
shows himself in a chocolate cake.

Utah,
clothed in the blasphemy of the devout,
turns to
the bearded outcasts,
the homeless,
the survivalists,
as no clean-shaven soul
will climb the hill
to mount the cross.

The atheist prays when in a bind.
Unbelieving,
he grows a beard,
to be more Godlike.

Instead
he becomes like a
transient hobo,
worthless as three dimes
in the desert.

A sign reads
“Son of God needed”,
and it’s
just hours before the Crucifixion.

But there’s no takers.

Maybe the savior is at the Home Depot.
Look for the guy
who looks like Jesus.

A guy with a beard,
in Utah.

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Filed under outlaw poetry, poetry, religion, Spirituality

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