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Splintered Messiah by Stewart Henderson

I don’t want a splintered Messiah

In a sweat stained greasy grey robe

I want a new one

I couldn’t take this one to parties

People would say ‘Who’s your friend?’

I’d give an embarrassed giggle and change the subject.

If I took him home

I’d have to bandage his hands

The neighbours would think he’s a football hooligan

I don’t want his cross in the hall

It doesn’t go with the wallpaper

I don’t want him standing there

Like a sad ballet dancer with holes in his tights

I want a different Messiah

Streamlined and inoffensive

I want one from a catalogue

Who’s as quiet as a monastery

I want a package tour Messiah

Not one who takes me to Golgotha

I want a King of Kings

With blow waves in his hair

I don’t want the true Christ

I want a false one.