I spent midnight mass at the foot of a DJ’s pulpit.
A sermon so indulgent,
with hands out stretched
I recite the prophets text
Straight from the liner notes.
Track ten verse two.
Scripture so true
You can cross-stitch it on a pillow.
The congregation of the Underground
United by vices, heavenly voices muddled by
Ice cubes clinking in an
empty glass.
I’ve subscribed to the nightlife’s
religion of decadence.
A dogma obscured yet enhanced
by strobe lights
fist fights
fishnet tights
and dark moonless nights.
My Child,
“Drink two Bloody Mary’s and your sins shall be absolved.”
Your hangover resolved.
The earth can still revolve
Around you.
A holy trinity of booty, booze and break beats.
A crutch for the other six days of the week.
Parties and prayers
Preachers and Players
Lovers and Haters
Yes men and nay-sayers
Non-repentant in our sweat drenched idolatry.
-MROSE (2009)
