We, Patron Saints of Troubled Times
by Paulie Lipman
We
bang our heads
in a whisper, screaming
to a lord We don’t think
maybe might be out there
All of our altars
rendered hollow wind
candles blown out, waiting
despite heaven’s backlog
for so many candidates to
finally be canonized
Reaching for the
language of ordainment
its distance further all the time
not realizing We are all
already fluent
Kingdom Come
ain’t coming through
so We must seize the
means of production and
baptize our own damned selves
Act as ye have faith
and faith shall be given
to We
But We is not
an empty office
Our newfound abilities
must be brought to bear
transmute thoughts and prayers
into actions both grand and fragile
Be of service to one and other
with no thought of reward
no fanfare or tithing
no pedestal or pulpit
We are all We and
no one stands higher
than anyone
Paulie Lipman is a former bartender/bouncer/record store employee/
Renaissance Fair worker/two time National Poetry Slam finalist and a current loud Jewish/Queer/poet/writer/performer. Their work has appeared in Button Poetry, Write About Now, The Emerson Review, Drunk In A Midnight Choir, Voicemail Poems, pressure gauge, Protimluv (Czech Republic) and Prisma: Zeitblatt Fur Text & Sprache (Germany). Their poetry collections from below/denied the light and sad bastard soundtrack are available from Swimming With Elephants Publications.
