The temple

A Poem by Marshall

Walls of reinforced steel
reserve, packed high
with political ambitions
the steps leading up
into the night sky of diamonds,
for prayers from the pulpit of doom
to those huddled below in the basement
chants and incense sticks
the temple stood imposing
upon every worshipers fear.

She was more than w***e
as she danced snakes
gyrating to the tax collections of
repentance. At night she coiled
around the sanctum sanctorum
of greed and faked orgasms of deceit.

God gave -the priest didn't!