jesus’ jalopy

Jesus thinks he’s jazzy
jettin’ ’round in his jalopy

with a heapin’ splash of High-Karate
Pageboy locks and sock-like bulge

kafkaesque by all accounts

wrecks resurrected
from the junkyard

rolls in dirt & grease

then acts indignant
when we call him out

and lately

he’s been sporting those archaic perforated jerseys
cut to frame his rippling midfriff

think i’m joking?
scope his new jean jacket

lo, i jest ye not
that shit’s bejeweled

it’s best that we let him down gently
judge him not
though he has sinned

for what is Jesus to us
but a reference point
prone to revisions

made to grade our tragic states
of ethical ineptitude

if we were to face the fundamental facts
based on our actions

Jesus would be turning fast
within his human grave

henceforth, i do decree
that we observe his truths
sans private faction

banish institutions he himself would deem so dubious

if Jesus should become unhinged

we, as his peers
shall be his jury

by vigilante justice rule

it is our job
to save his soul

pray God, forgo those reparations

looming nigh o’er our hung heads

for if we are to shed our earnings
into wayward wicker baskets

i propound, that only Jesus merits his own private jet


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