Poem By Elcypher_White Man's God

Poem By Elcypher_White Man's God
White Man's God

I marvel;
how a perfectly composed mind
with a Mont Blanc compass worn
round his wrist gleam to equal the sun.

His belly rests on the neck
of Sam Brown's belt still to
enslave the tucked in shirt.

There's a line of poetry
on the brim of his hat
sitting wobbly on his well
'combwebbed' hair.

What needs tell of his shoes
waiting to sue the arriving
pairs of trousers upon the
destination of ankles.

Some line of perfection runs
through his shoulders
housed in the heavy pursuit
of his coat.

The rhyme in the lines of
his chest pockets
seek alternative course
to look down below.

He walks in whispers
spoken by his soles
as his spectacled eyes
ran far from guilt
for a distance eyes
 to see them lurk or written.

There he is;
gentlemanliness in gesture.
But, where lies his anger when
his gloved fingers revealed peace?

This,
again,
I marvel;
how he drew him from
his inner pocket—
a god drunken with iron stones
yet, exclaims in danger smokes.

How fair is his mighty justice?
that the gentleman with his
heavenly composure could be
driven crazy as to command
the once silent god to speak
in tongue and deafen his
neighbors to
         worship,
       
            plead

              and

            surrender
to the will of
white man's god.

El cypher.