Thursday 11 July 2019

The Mormons and I


I met the Mormons this eve

as they walked the pavement
and seemed to be
the last of modernity’s baby teeth
—those that refused to drop
and held to the gums
to prevent the poison from seeping in
completely.

I met the Mormons
on their two year assignment.

I was grateful for their suits,
ties
and straight haircuts
waving us into eternity
as the devil prepares
to take those ignoring the call.

Because in any case,
if the Mormons are wrong
it’s just about the devil’s timing
—the devil has already been throwing his party
for one hell of a time.

That is,
the devil of boredom,
conflict
and fear.

So many of us
despise our lives
yet fear a change
—that’s the devil.

Meanwhile,
on these bland secular streets
the colour of purgatory,
Mr and Mr Mormon march on
—just a couple of kids across the world
adventuring for god
and waiting for the world to end.

They may well have their facts bent,
but these lads—for two years at least—
are living.
These Mormons are preaching
something bigger than facts
—something bigger even
than god.






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