For Pope knows not, the laws of sin
Nor cares beyond, his ‘sorry prayers’
But a piety, as deep, as truth’s skin
Wielded with, beads of, phony tears!

The bleeding tales, of raped rectums
Baptize your bishops, with whose gores?
At the altars, of your smug sanctums
They are our sons, not your holy whores!

Your theatrics Pope, deserve Oscars!
What a spectacle, you make of pain
You skin to bone, your faith’s martyrs
In media glare, bare the Vatican’s vein!

A fist of psalms, a breath of sighs
And a rosary, to count, blessed blasphemy!
Half-truths, ain’t they, but blatant lies
Bartered in the, School of Sodomy!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra