Patriarch in robes sown with gilded thread
Before his glistering altar stands,
Holding the Gospels in jewelled hands
Firmly proclaiming what those scriptures said
About swords, plough shares and the Prince of peace,
While praising the president and his state
And damning their enemies to their fate,
His cheek unturned. It is time to release
The apostles of war to bless with shell
And shot hospitals, nurseries and schools,
Wherever the innocent or such fools
Seek refuge in such a Christian hell.
This prelate seeks power as his word dies
On his lips, with him being Lord of the Flies.