What a waste of space
said the hope not kissing up
a rainbow flag, just knocked about
somewhere beyond
the sunny hills of Teheran

litres of hate are lashing down
streaming clockwise 
towards the DNA of involution
promoting their right to be 
young folks larking it up
ordering censorship at the  bar

What a waste of sweat
said Jesus not coming down
from the cross, pungently holding
a sarcastic comment:
We're not made in the image of his father
if we get bothered by a colour
a favour
some lovers
just kissing each orther

kilos of rage are weighting down
the motion of the planet
spirituality is mooching around 
along the endless queue of a fast food
In a sunny afternoon in Manhattan

Poetry remains the cutie, light-hearted Resistance
the gaiety of a pink sword
the brightest of future:
the queerest, the better!