Four-faced blasphemy

Magic numbers here, a numerology.
A saint and a good old boy have a standoff,
one off his neuroleptics and the other
running around naked. His amphetamines
taught him God and undid his contempt.
A saint is well wed to his ignorance.
A saint and a good old boy vanish
in a spray of young whiskey, and in
their place arrive from a joint of places
men in turbans discovered and hid
a couple of women bleeding from the hip.
Luckless hags them, they have a standoff.
And they dance like spry old gentlemen.

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~ by Jeremy on June 6, 2012.

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