Empty rooms,
Crowded tombs:
No resurrections here.
Show me your Messiah,
Show me your God,
Or even one gramme of evidence,
But don’t try to sell me a pound of your faith.
Love?
Sex!
Murals chill,
Graffiti thrill;
Bare walls better still.
If you do it, do it right,
Do it quick, don’t take all night.
From a view to kill,
Wipe,
Snipe;
Here we go Mr President,
You and me together:
Watch the birdie...
History here I come.
[The above was first published in issue 1 of MAR.]
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