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Angels Graffiti
Spray paint and dried blood
splattered crime
committed by whom?
The artist
spraying the final touches
of Gabriel’s out-stretched wing
on the brick and mortar
of the town central church
or was it the cop
a deacon on Sundays
who in the name of St Michael
put the finishing touches
on Gabriel’s face
with a billy club backstroke
to the back of Billy’s brain?
His spray paint can
holy rolled and hid
in darkness
behind the rose bordered billboard
advertising its message
of love and forgiveness
and its announcement
of the gathering now in service
where as usual
the largest crowd of the week gathered
to hear the clergyman in black
who now speaks
from behind his pulpit
his sermon tonight is,
“B-1”
“Amen!” someone shouts. “Bingo!”
But all the cards
in front of Billy’s mom
are losers
so she staggers to her feet
and stinking of bourbon
she curses her luck
in the name of St Michael
and like the foul air
that blows through
the chapel vents
she blows through
stained glass doors
and lumbers along her way
holding to the wall for support
until her foot rolls
onto a weed shrouded cylinder
and drops her onto her back
where pitifully she weeps
and sleeps broken hearted
a heart that is done
and can’t be restarted
she rests now in peace
enshrouded in the wings
of an angels graffiti.
Comments
Nice, voted up
yeah .. I like your story poem .. very creative ..! wayne
So many emotions from reading this poem. The imagery is awesome.
V+ my friend.
Happy Friday,
Kim
- Author
Thank you, Laurie.
Well, this offers so many images in my mind; wonderful. Sad but beautiful. Great poem. Ann
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I appreciate the compliment, Michael.
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Thank you, Kim. I appreciate your visit.
What an incredible mix of the street and religion and a narrator that finds themselves torn by the two. I may be off. But I like what I got out of it. I think that this poem accomplishes much in a great modern approach. Well done. Thank you for sharing. Jamie
Wow, Wayne! This is amazing!
So powerful a message written here Wayne! Thank you for the outlook on how others use and view religion in their life. Simply put a scenario that chills the soul.
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Thank you, annart.
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Hey, Jamie! Thanks for the feedback and the compliment. And yeah, you were pretty much right on.
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Thank you Sha. I always appreciate your kind words.
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Hey, Kari. thanks again for the compliments.
Haven't you shone a black light on the graffiti to highlight the spiritual white and phosphorescent colors?
This is a very powerful piece.... it is vivid, dark and imaginative, it evokes feelings of despair and exclusion........loved it:-))
Wow a true gem here Wayne; showing off your talent at its best. Have a great day and here's to so many more hubs for us both to share on here.
Eddy.
- Author
Nellieanna, almost sounds like you are referring to my artwork. But knowing you, it's an intermingling compliment to both the poem and the art. Either way, just seeing you here put a spotlight on the whole thing!
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Valleypoet, thank you very much for the kind words.
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Hi Eddy. Thank you for the nice words.
Of course it's directed at both - the whole concept! So ingenious! But I now expect nothing less of your work! It's so unique, as well! (A black-light spotlight? hehe)
Voted up and beautiful. I often wonder if the streaks and signs I sometimes see in the sky are an angels graffiti. Your poetry brings the imagination to life. Passing this on.
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thanks for the compliment, Rasma.
Beautifully expressed, voted up.
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I appreciate your kind words, Vellur.
You said that perfectly. That is precisely why, at the tender age of 12, I turned my back on the church. I was so tired of seeing many people living lies. What is in my heart can be celebrated by me alone, and the clones of those that are good only on Sunday can continue to live as they see fit. Without me!
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Me and you both, Deb. Considering the poems I have written, I surely wasn't expecting any nominations for most religious hubber :)
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