The gentleness of Jesus
And the meekness of the child
Are false ideas. Christ was fierce
And we breed our children wild.
The spring girl who is dreaming
In the branches of a tree
Knows something of the charnel-house
And modern psychiatry.
The poor old ancient dribbler,
Cigar ash on his vest,
Thinks his seventh stage of life
Not much worse than the rest.
There is an ache of discontent
In milktooth and aged gum,
So let’s give praise for coming days,
For Kingdom-Bloody-Come.
(Max Harris)
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