God Of Barcelona. Poem by Geoffrey Fafard

God of Barcelona must be different
Than the one I know
His cathedral is huge with spires
That spear towards todays blue sky
There are impressive towers that reach to heaven
So very grand He must be
There are fountains gushing everywhere
To wash his weary eyes
When he looks earthward
He has police to protect him
From erroneous entries
Their batons and pistols gleaming
Black things hang ominous
From belts of guarding sentries
He has a grande concourse de entry
Maybe if it was not so grand
And such an arduous task
To clear his dutiful staff
I would walk up and say
Good day.