August 27, 2025

The priest sobs while the press throngs,

His belief at an all-time low.

His words of faith, his lessons of love,

Backhanded by a bitter blow.

Two sheep lost from the fold.

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The cards are bent, slick with oils,

The Joker's lying pristine to the side.

Face it, your deal comes faceless,

Your only move is to let it ride.

My best advice is to fold.

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London Calling blares through the bullet-

Holed windows that frame your home.

The only action anyone will take

Will come in the form of a lousy poem.

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Take this page in history,

Press it along its crease.

Only when the curtain falls

Might this farce finally cease -

The joke inside the fold.