Poinsettas bloom like poison
Death disguised by beauty
Jagged edges meet
Unfurl their flat spokes
Breathing through preaching
Grow with a Bible
Down their throats
The tweed suits and
Matching ties that
Encourage their horridness
For they, they are lovely
With a bite
But is their home
A poison beautiful
Once injected?
Author notes
A parallel between some poinsettas decorating our church and the religion itself.
I wrote this while musing during the sermon.
(I'll probably go to hell.)
Written December 12th, 2005
What did you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Suure. *warmfuzzies*
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Bossa Nova!
Wow, I like this immensely well! Unmitigated kudos to you! Can I place this in my favorite poems by other people file? -
Hmm... i take this to me you are partly the pointsetta and that you don't feel partiuclarly comfortable about having grown up with the bible "down your throat"... if not i totally read it wrong.
Spanking background yo -
see author comments
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It sounds good..
but I'm thinking that Im missing the overall meaning
Edited on Dec 12, 6:59 p.m. because 'bad grammar'.
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