His body

His body broken
His curtain torn
His Heaven opened
His men reborn

Inspired by Mark 15:34-39

“And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? which is, being interpreted, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?
And some of them that stood by, when they heard it, said, Behold, he calleth Elias.
And one ran and filled a sponge full of vinegar, and put it on a reed, and gave him to drink, saying, Let alone; let us see whether Elias will come to take him down.
And Jesus cried with a loud voice, and gave up the ghost. And the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom. And when the centurion, which stood over against him, saw that he so cried out, and gave up the ghost, he said, Truly this man was the Son of God.”

Freedom Funnel

Postmodern Mud

Bogus is the boogeyman,
Hidden fully under hoods.
Preposterous the candy-gram,
Absconding with the truth and goods.

Ribbons, columns form a line,
To funnel and to filter thoughts.
Narrowing paths over time,
Minds within the net are caught.

Concealed the facts under a cape,
Confining stories and their scope.
Castigating any gripe.
Totalitarian the trope.

Temporary are the walls,
Guiding walkers to to the stile.
Trepidation over all,
Worrying all the while.

At their bidding you are blinded.
Tapers now they’re snuffing out,
Remaining minds are not reminded,
Resign themselves to fear and doubt.

Receding are the peoples rights,
Confined, conscripted and corralled.
Beleaguered with no will to fight,
Into silence collapse the cowed.

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