Excrements of Soul, and Burial Cloths of Immortal Resurrection

Rheums of revelations; crusted fallacies
eloquently parabled with a fingertip,
these boogery symbols profoundly offered

in tissued expressions of faith.
Now listen to us cry out with head colds
" This is of my body. "

So is flatulence, flaky shit.
Do you think waste holy enough
to require communion?

How does one expulsion from "Heaven"
differ from another, these rituals
hold any clear epiphanies,

other than ... "Eat, Drink of me." ?
Jesus gave up the ghost, releasing
bodily functions, allowing it to all pass away.

But his influx was foretold, a stardom
even before the scabby legwork
to Jerusalem, clearing away the gobbledygook.

And I wipe these eyes, blow my nose,
cleaning this ass on a personal Shroud, praying
stones roll away, and reveal to the pilgrims

my own ascension in smudged icons, saved.