Roibeárd Uí Neíll: two poems
FAREWELL, MORAL TERRORISM
to M. Pate
something happier
this way strums -- Jesus dances
under the same tent
we do, air guitar at full tilt,
a purple toga
& nail wounds, His hair hanging down.
no one here is offended.
don't pluck your eye out.
don't cut your hand off. piss on
Hell, that old torment.
when we cornered Him about
genitalia, He
cupped His balls & ruefully sighed,
"Father simply had no idea."
ANTI-MATTERS OF FAITH
not to be trusted --
dogma is a clown AWOL from
a low-budget circus,
spreading the usual mayhem.
bend over, grab ankles,
prepare for an anal probe
on behalf of all the UFOs
you have never seen.
humongous red nose running
& painted teardrops,
crude emotionalism,
he wants you to convert or burn.
after such an encounter,
one isn't pregnant with wonder.
Roibeárd Uí Neíll's work has appeared in Now Here No Where, Devil Blossoms, Coal City Review, The
Doomed City and The Plastic Tower, among many others.
