Disgruntled Pharisees

The sanctum of our world

A Place of solace for the hopeless

We pray your indulgence to criticize

To correct and not connive to brutalize

The weapons of venom but with no blast

Let the smoke of your words incense the vestry

To alert the high priest to call the junior pastors

Who wine and dine with the inquisitors

The Sanhedrin has been corrupted

It is now owned by the priesthood

Who call the Pharisees to teach messages

But not of the law

 The elders are quiet and will not talk

To incur the wrath of the priesthood

The Pharisees are paid to talk

For the pleasure of the listening public.

Oh! You Pharisees, paradoxically leading

The blind to cross the bridge but to nowhere

Your cloak shall trip you to fall

Now you are fuming and grumbling

Your marriage has been ruined by your slip

And the priesthood is annoyed

The public now know your ins and outs

Your noisy waves we shall our ears incline no more