Remember! Your poems don't have to be inspired by politics, alone. There's much more going on in your world, both locally and globally.

Thursday, 17 May 2018

Pharisee and Publican

To sacred precincts strode one day
A well-established Church to pray;
Alas! in an adjacent pew
A Psychic Fraud was praying too;
So, fearing the just God might see
And judge him by such company,
The Church declaimed: "I thank Thee, Lord,
That I am not a Psychic Fraud;
I thank Thee for the taste and tact
Thou showed in the creative act
Which brought me forth, and to me led
The dupes who buy my daily bread.
I thank Thee for those many schools
Where children learn Thy holy rules,
And all about Thy charming ways
With witches, heretics and gays.
I thank Thee for the sacred praxis
Whereby I share my country's taxes,
And clothe my manifold abuses
In fetching, gossamer excuses.
Thou didst well, in a nutshell, Lord,
In making me no Psychic Fraud."
And, all puffed up with righteous pride,
He toddled home quite justified.
Of this, the Psychic Fraud had heard
No solitary blesséd word;
But, wanting a new home extension,
She talked the priest out of his pension.

© Philip Challinor

She didn't see it coming: psychic arrested for $800,000 fraud

Philip Challinor posts fiction, satire and assorted grumbles on his blog: The Curmudgeon. His longer fiction is available here.

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