The Bishop of the Bruised

The Bishop of the Bruised

Celebrity has always been a strange thing. Certain people who are seen as being good at certain jobs are very nearly worshipped. These days, many so called ‘fans’ of celebrities seem to be in it more for the sense of belonging that being in a fan club brings. Suddenly, this celebrity is put on a pedestal and given meaningless titles and names that the fans themselves, often young people, don’t even understand. The real reason for their popularity is lost in a tide of nonsense. Unfortunately, this can easily turn nasty, as it does for the poor man in this poem. This is kind of a half-poem-half-song kind of deal which actually developed from a short story I wrote.

The Bishop of the Bruised

A simple man with simple gifts
Of wisdom, patience, empathy
Is idolised both near and far
By all the people he set free

Hail! (Hail!) To The Wonder of the Age!
Hail! (Hail!) To this Victoriana Sage!
We had a dream that you removed your shoe
And blessed us with the smell
It opened up our eyes
From which a joyful torrent fell

An anonymous, internet agony uncle
Working only on weekends
Knows not quite how much he’s done
And finds himself with many friends

Hail! (Hail!) To The Father of the Year
Hail! (Hail!) To this Incendiary Seer
We share a hope that you’ll tear out our hearts
Replace them with a chair
Then send us to the North
To make a show of what we share

They march upon the old man’s house
And drag him screaming from his bed
His body’s broken, shredded, torn
Each wraps an entrail round their head

Hail! (Hail!) To The Bishop of the Bruised
Hail! (Hail!) To this Medic of the Misused
We’ll keep a love of your excessive ways
Alive in all we do
Still weeping for the joy first known
When you removed your shoe

Einstein's scalp. 45 quid off Ebay

Einstein’s scalp. 45 quid off Ebay

 

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