Sunday, May 5, 2013

Poem: The Non Practicing Christian by Manuel Odeny

A cold misty morning- a thought of prayer
he shakes sleep from him eyes, cold from him marrows
dusty-torned-dog eared bible,
hustled, dust slapped
him leg lumbers a bored body
a hardened heart, a severed spirit
meandering the snake path
to a desolate house
on the hill.

The whole week it slept alone
now standing vigil in the cold morning mist
night dark lurks in shadows
chattering crickets fading away
who! whooo! of restive eyed owls
paving to gay chirping birds
heralding a day of worship
to the non-practicing Christian

Outta weekly drop-out Jesus is picked
bowed head humbly, hypocrisy dissuaded
hippo fat butt tendered in upholstery
moan on coarse pew
rusty nails, joints squeaking in protest.
invoked spirits hover
in amalgam of incest aroma with
sinful stench of last night indulgences!
blood of lamb- bud tantalizer
to a Johnny Walker imbiber!
body of Christ ingested with pork
of cause kitu kodogo* is tithed
as hands deft at pinching butts, tinkering nipples
folded in supplication.

“Soon and very soon
we are going to see the King
alleluia, alleluia
we are going to see the King”

he sashays to gyrating song
Yeah men!
the non-practsisng Christian
drifts in balling frenzy
Yeah Men!

He ducks away
service over, till next week
like a coat Jesus is shed, till next week
He dashes away
hopelessly clinging to departing weekend
to nyama choma*, carousing

! ! ! ! !

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