The Last Supper

Warning! Despite the title The Last Supper, these are not religious poems. These poems embrace the intersection of the Sacred and the Profane. As readers know, at that intersection lies the forbidden. These poems are forbidden to you if you are easily offended, if you read the lines but not between the lines. If you cannot embrace shades of gray, you will not like these poems. The author apologizes in advance for the lack of roses and limericks in these poems. These poems are not for children, little old ladies, or Church Mothers. However the church is in these poems.

You might get a whiff of the 80's in these verses. Ronald Reagan may be dead, but his legacy lives on. Nothing has changed much in corporate America. Greed rules. AIDS steals away our young men and women. From the poem's title, The Last Supper, came the mantra a young man recited as I fed him his last meal:

A sip of water please/A little string beans/Wait now, you're rushing me.

Don't rush through these poems. Take your time.

© 2023 Wes Writers and Publishers (Rafbók): 6610000480388

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Rafbók: 26 juli 2023