Pentecost
Current mood: happy
Category: Writing and Poetry

I wasn't sure whether to post this or not, because I don't actually write that much so more or less everything I write is on the internet now :-S oh well, try to enjoy it.

As some will know it was pentecost on Sunday, as a tradition we do a walk of witness around here and pissing it down or not it was actually alot of fun. Only that one of the guys there (who is one of the most christian guys I know) looked pretty damn miserable, and it just got me how tired and sad he looked :-( so I tried to sum the whole thing up as coherently as I could:

For Johnny -

Pentecost

Your mind has left us for the ghosts of freight trains

Rattling past the badlands,

Where somewhere you're burning rubbish in an oil drum

And waiting for the wind to change.

Stand still while the traffic passes,

Your shoes won't take you much further.

Not as far as the blue eyes of your fathers,

Stained grey by sleepless Sundays

And Sabbath thunder coming up behind.

The mark of tattered gloves and idle eyes,

'A young man made old.'

And over the dust devils

The sound of pennies dropping in a cup

Jangles in the shadows of your face,

Barking in the church-dug hollows

And deepened by twenty four years of ill luck.

The first behind the train at Pentecost,

Pink-eyed and standing at the station

You ask them to spare a flame,

But the disciples have forgotten you –

Their messiah had your face.