Poem: Fàrìsì ì (Pharisee)

On Sunday mornings
They put on the best designer wears
To, in God’s house, showcase their ministry of tears affairs;

Before now,
Their places used to be the rear pews
But now,
They’ve sneaked in to be part of the dear few;

The affairs of the Synagogue
In their hands lie
The control of which,
Bears similarity to that of Gog and Magog;

They’re fault-finders
Commissioned by the lie-maker
To be the great defenders
Of the hypocritical mischief-makers;

In their mouths
Their tongues wag like a dog’s tail
A name on their sniper-list
Is drowning of their fairy tale;

Every of your utterance
To them, is offensive
Their actions and in-actions toward you
Is always on the defensive;

Your ways, to them, is always ludicrous
Unknown to them
They’ve pushed you
Into a state of luminos-ity;

They were before now, ‘backbiters’
In rank,
They’ve grown to become full-fledged ‘frontbiters’;

Call me a ninny,
But I say it the way I see with stunned nifty!

By: Akhimien Monday