When They Asked, Smirking (JESUS BHAKTI POEMS (ii))

When they asked, smirking, and pulling faces,
‘Where is your father, boy? Why
is he not here
at your side?’

And you stopped talking for a moment to say
‘God does not dwell in temples,
especially not
this den of thieves,’

I think they were laughing at you,
those wise men.
But they were not
just laughing.

The seed of your death had been planted,
O Lord of the blue skies
and wide
open spaces.


All night he said ‘Choose!
Kneel and worship me
Jesus the Great, King of the Jews!’

No mat let alone bed,
no bread let alone feast.
Yet you, no matter what,
would not co-operate.

‘All right,’ he said,
‘just kneel down is all
and let me place the crown
upon your head!’

There on the mountain top
when the sun rose in the east
and you said: ‘Stop.
That is your crown,
this is your world,’
did you lose or did he,
O Lord of the Night?

Or did we?

Even an Anarchist Must Eat (Even a Poet!) (JESUS BHAKTI POEMS (vi))

You think I understand?
What if I understand
when it is not what is in my head that counts
but what is in my hand?

You think I don’t want that house?
You think I don’t fancy that yacht?
I know what the fuss is about.
I need more, not less, than I’ve got.

You say I know, in my heart?
What if I know in my heart?
It is not what is in my heart that counts
but what is in my hand.

Ask me:
Do I want the one pearl within,
O Lord of the Night,
or the many without?