The Supply Teacher Poem by Michael Moorcroft

The Supply Teacher



She took Christianity to the extreme,
In the second coming non – believers would melt,
Someone touched her Bible it made her scream,
It was underlined and scribbled in felt.

She jumped on the desk,
Whipped out her Bible,
Spat at the sinners and,
Wove tales of the Babel.

She used to be a nun,
In some far away place,
But they kicked her out,
Coz’ she was a nut case.

Institutionalised several times,
Bit off another patients ear,
Even committed a few petty crimes,
The woman sat across the room we all began to fear.

Visions from God,
Of another flood,
People stood up,
The mob demanded blood.

Pushed out the window,
A thud on the floor,
A cheer went round the room,
As the blood began to pore.

The police quizzed,
And later discovered,
She slipped off the desk,
Whilst preaching from the bible.

Where she had lain,
There was scorch marks,
One less weirdo in the world,
That the children had slain.

© Michael Moorcroft August 18th 2009

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