Hubris is a halo

Hubris is a halo
Sacrifice is gloss
Faith is a misquote
Hopium, a cross

Truth is a footnote
Measurement is loss
Context is a sideshow
Principle is floss

Binary Labour

Going long on shares in a mirrored box
Got bullies, got smears, got ghosts, got sneers
Got tone-deaf choirs rocking has-been stock

Got champagne flutes, got red jackboots
And pumped up loyalists in romper suits

Got banners, got spanners, got sickles and hammers
Self-righteous manners and parochial planners

Got intolerance to chart with equality of snark
Got capacity to park and incompetence to mark

Got a telling dark inflection in the malice of projection
And perpetual reflection of foul-smelling misdirection

Got a creaky leaky PLP self-sabotaged by sneakery
That hubris did assist and gift so horribly predictably

Got groupies’ faith and blowhard fogeys,
Tin foil hats and lost apostles claimed as bogeys
Corporate shills and established wizards
With machine-made skills serving diehard lizards

Got facile and sage; got clinical and vague
Got statements of the obvious and hopium made.

Got progress rot and momentum BOGOF
Cracked pots self-kettled in a Gordian knot

Got wave and clap and wring your hands
Got loving like a menace and fearing like a lamb

Got reason on a ration, got hysteria for passion
Got rallies for revivals like it’s going out of fashion

Got entitlement to churn and enlightenment to burn
Got impunity for duty, got excuses under scrutiny
Disunity refracting semiotics symbiotically returned.

digital Jesus

digital Jesus
guarded en suite
echoes in chambers
nailed fast to his keep

fishes for martyrdom
passionless preached
to passionate impotence
sought in the streets

Media sidestepping
sacredly walks
and double messiahs
at challenges brought

bets hubris in talks
via phone to the bloc
outsources protection
resentment and shock
sells magic and miracle
films for his flock
that grows as it spins
from the yarns he allots

marrow fat mockery
seeds in his rock as he
feeds an addiction to hope
with despair
making progress a symbol
of going nowhere

makes jam for Jerusalem
hearting all visions
reducing to black and white
relativism

the lamb in his prison
the grass at his feet
one prism of schism
is all he will treat
with a vestal revision
ensuring repeat
of a bring-your-own-bread
no JC has yet beat

still, he washes the crosses
and bears it so sweet
as he pardons the hardened
and blesses by tweet
the position his mission
momentously craves
resurrecting the Way
by immovable feast