jesus shrieks

        

        jesus on his tip toes

        arches over me and spits

        the same lecture word for word

        and i endeavor to turn my cheek

        

        jesus sent me a manuscript

        and asked me for my thoughts

        and cursed the little jew (left in me)

        who muttered "well ..." instead of "yes"

        

        jesus gives but can not take

        sarcasm and accuses me of talking

        out the side of my mouth all the while 

        showering me in spit

        

        jesus throws the world at me

        all the names and pricks and 

        a bales of barb wired round 

        creamy centers of venom 

        

        jesus stomps and hurls and shakes

        the branches of the tree of wisdom

        and throws it all at me in a whirlwind

        and yea, sure, some of it sticks

        

        jesus whips his crown at me 

        and the thorns do prick and i do bleed

        he throws the first stone through the last 

        and i wonder which might be his heart

        

        jesus says i alienate and that i'm drunk

        with self importance not worthy of concrete 

        and rattles a litany of ancients who'd agree

        on my shameful lust for the very last word

        

        jesus says i'm goddamned insensitive 

        he's had it up to here with me 

        and sets the scope and terms 

        and rolls a stone over my memory

        

        jesus might be better pleased 

        if i where retarded, happy as tea bag

        to bend my knee and praise his text

        and let his country simple grace prevail

        

        jesus says"you get it or you don't"

        and will not seek to elucidate 

        since it's all as obvious as the color blue

        and he will not weed it out for me

        

        jesus has wrestled me many times 

        and still he calls my best "shots" cheap

        though shooting is no sport for me

        still (as he can not say) i do my best

        

        jesus i guess is out for blood

        and finding none claims my heart a stone

        sees not my sweat or tears or this wet

        pool of red - he thinks all blood is blue

        

        jesus wails and protests so much

        with fingers in ears coughing up brimstone

        he harrow hells and drags me down

        and as always closes with "hope all is well"

        

        jesus prepares himself to defend 

        confesses sin and despicable acts

        and mortifies himself again 

        yes, i too have kicked what's down

        

        jesus with his bridges all aflame

        burns the future with past and present

        in childlike rage that would melt any bond

        and ends with earnest protestations of lov