Poem (Lo)ve


ecce homo

this Jew ex machina

who’s purloined Pauline


crashed the Whore

of Babylon’s machinery


— a sudden stoppage

in the

constant(ine) gears

which had weathered

the (st)orms

of barbarism and buffoonery —


died on a tree

say it

(s)aint so

devoid of (e)motion

qui(e)t, silent even

as the public gawked

and prodded


b(lo)ody hands agape.

Agape! he cries,


through the tears

renting his b(lo)ody flesh

almost as ba(l)dly

as we have

rented his b(lo)ody

super(ficial) image

through the years




in the

par(ox)ysm of death

he begged

his go(o)d forgive

those who

(k)illed him

with their fears



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