The socialist
Spilt coffee on the kitchen table
the liquid formed the face of Jesus, as painted by an artist.
The face has idealized the sum of we hoped for
handsome and not old.
Jesus was the Assange of his time, a contrarian telling
us the truth; we don't like being told the truth.
The church, the capitalist of the time, adopted him
like he should be one of them.
They only did this when too many believed in his teaching
and the put quotes in his mouth what he never said.
Born in a stable by a lower-class family who was behind in rents
and thrown out, his father too up carpentry which Jesus
was no good at doing
He was more bookish walking around critical of the regime
which arrested him and then crucified him as a warning to
his many fans, but his equality talks are still around today
we call it socialism.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem