Ashes Upon their Foreheads

Penance for the public’s eye

To cover up a private lie

In the prelude to

40 days of lenten sacrifice

40 days of wanton artifice

Deprive yourself of sugar based induldgences

Yet indulging in this divine comedy

Of spiritual apology

Of confession without progression

Of tradition without perdition

Of spirituality without the reality


We’re just wondering around in the desert

Like Christ.

With sand on our feet

And no appetite

The hypocrisy of our theocracy

Has led to mediocrity

Sincere Insincerity

Insincere Sincerity

To cover up the severity

The ingrained temerity

Of the every day Irishman


Our Father who art in heaven

Must get to mass by half eleven

For their lenten obligation

Ashes without the sackcloth

Marked upon the foreheads

Of the “faithful”….


Long since departed

From faith of any sort





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