‘Pope’s assassin’

I was incarcerated

behind strong bars,

I may probably not escape,

without a miracle.

For strong Christian reasons,

he was attempted.

I was a dissenter

of his stand-points,

a vehement one.

I protested with marches,

I said,

he didn’t give a heed.

He met my murderous hands.

He might have assumed them

to be like the wrought,

but they were like flannels,

softer than his.

These are a writer’s hands, he said.

Behind bars, I said

a prayer of apology,

and he acting like Christ,

told me, he had interdicted me

on demand, but

had forgiven and,

begged to the almighty

for the soul to be sanctified.

But,

I called him a coward,

a masked man,

a sex master,

and- gleaning greatness

by parochial speeches.

I said, his cathedral

was ludicrous, and

he was the advocate of Satan.

He was a political pope,

treasurer of Mussolini.

A public one for the Mafia,

his cathedral craved pennies,

neglected men.

I said, that is a false tomb

for exhibition.

Prayers are forced duties

for the insiders.

And, duties that concerned

are, meeting Premieres

throughout the globe,

especially those

of the States and the Kingdom,

sprinkling holy waters

upon their families.

I said, he didn’t believe

in any Provenance,

like I.

But, he was an intelligent professor,

Dickens’ Harthouse,

by nature.

He condemned religion,

he was a misanthrope,

watching people being killed

from his panoramic apartment.

He beatified me,

as he seemed to go,

but I was not awarded

a death sentence.