Hosanna Poem by Peter Black

Picking up butts,
I will not kick this addiction—
Handed a pamphlet with the strangest fiction:
Says god loves you if he's in your heart.
Well, I long ago lost my conviction.
He shines bright,
When men need ten dollars or a new sign,
To drag people in and fixate their minds.
The golden city of heaven is real,
If you can find hope in man's blaspheme shrines.
No preacher or pastor,
No cross or weak wine,
Can put back the truth burned in my eyes.
Picking up pennies trying to make a buck,
All I have are a lot of 'please gods' and lies.