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Diogenes and the Prostitute

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Diogenes was on his usual quest,
Holding a lantern up in his hand,
Searching for goodness
In the species called human beings.

The most right place should be
Where else but places of worship?
Where man meets his gods
There should of course be goodness.

The priests wore habits of different colours,
They spoke truths of different colours,
Only the hatred in their eyes had the same colour.
In god’s house, muttered Diogenes to himself,
There’s no place to spit but the priest’s face.

The offices of political parties
with elegant slogans and proud flags
must be the place where goodness resides.
Kill, kill, is all that he heard in each office,
Kill the ones holding the other flags.
Kill the ones mouthing other slogans.
Those who are not with us are against us.
Kill them for the sake of the nation.
Why not whip the politician, the leader,
when the citizen is led astray?
Diogenes’s lantern flickered.

In the cottage of Rahab, the prostitute,
Was a tenderness rare and soft,
Come my beloved, she said,
Put out your lantern and hold me tight,
Love has only one colour,
And it doesn’t need any light.



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