Treasure Island

Bill Smith


Houses of the Holy

In the houses of the holy
They are polishing their guns
In the houses of the holy
They are offering up their sons

In the minds of the righteous
A tenner makes it right
There’s a place in heaven waiting
Repeat Amen, God bless, goodnight

In the eyes of the preacher
Sits before him heaven sent
Clay for the moulding
Minds to be bent

To the will of the living
By the men who palm the book
Who take the main ingredients
Then slowly start to cook

A shallow dish of hatred
A recipe for pain
A mixing bowl of don’t you dare
Then doing the very same

In the houses of the holy
There’s no such thing as sin
There’s a pathway up to heaven
A guarantee of getting in

Cos’ in the houses of the holy
Where they slay the sacred cow
There’s no reflection in the mirrors
Of the holier than thou

Submitted: Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Edited: Saturday, April 30, 2011

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  • Callie Carroll (5/9/2008 11:10:00 PM)

    The metre and rhyme is perfect. I especially like the part which says, 'Then slowly start to cook/ A shallow dish of hatred...' The length of your lines and the flow from part to part really build the emotion expertly. (Report) Reply

  • Shaun William Hayes (3/12/2008 7:00:00 PM)

    Yes indeed. You don't hear of many of the 'mind benders' sacrificing themselves for the promised riches, only the young vulnerable minds of the lonely and lost. Well said Bill.
    Shaun. (Report) Reply

  • Janice Windle (12/27/2007 7:24:00 PM)

    I like the strong indignant tone of this vigorous poem. I agree with your message, too. Particularly apt today, following Benazir Bhutto's assassination. (Report) Reply

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