The place we were reared in was a safe place
but we spoke hard words. We ached for war.
As for me: I was baser than that—I claimed a cause.
A teen brushing their mouth
of consensus, awe and doubt.
We place demands in our prayers
as if we place ourselves in G-d’s path.
Off rhyme of my joy and FML.
An off rhyme—that’s all.
Our rubbish mounts within a big frame
we colour key to pride and shame.
We fasten to the architecture
like a file that’s been saved.
We’re sure that we’re saved.
Our heaven may be a small heaven
but come now—the gate’s ajar.
In time you forget you’re faking it.
Resign. Be calm.
Miza Coplin‘s Holy Hell inspired Jeff Blackman‘s rough parody of Randy Newman’s adaptation of Peter Gabriel’s “Big Time”
wordandcolour 