[Writing] Today

This is a poem I wrote in that creative flow that writers talk so much about. For some reason, the whole thing makes so much sense to me, even though it shouldn't. It's a little flow-of-consciousness in its style.

Spoiler for:

Today

Today, I think I saw Jesus of Nazareth.
He was sitting in my college class, chewing the fat.
He said something about the War in Iraq and the future War in Yemen,
something about an obsessive need to control bowels and see demons.
Jesus wasn't real, though.
But he was in the class, and he was very irate.

He was pissed about lots of things, and he wanted us all to be naked;
who we were, with cigarettes in each hand and beatnik verse on the tongue.
He said he had been poor once, but there was always money in preaching.
Preaching about sex, fighting, and sometimes about both while driving an SUV.

He said cocaine was good, but only in moderation.
And that he visited whorehouses simply by by invitation,
but only to petition their souls against perdition.
All in rhyme, real annoying, just like that.

He had a heart of gold; it was his pocket watch,
and with it he could see the whole world at once,
and steal the eye of God from punks like Charlie Manson,
like some saturday cartoon.

I once heard him warn against the excesses of truth,
because he said that wisdom was also a golden mean.
Tread softly on divine ground, he said. And don't beat your kids.

It definitely affects me. Some hopeless, anarchist part of my brain is appealed to by the imagery of a divine saviour being a smoked out has been consumed by his own passions, counseling the young.