The Prophet Jeremiah

The Prophet Jeremiah 

By Tyler Lucas Mobley

The prophet Jeremiah blends in a crowd, mustard brushes his sleeve, 

out on divine parole, the stall line at Coachella proved larger than his bladder.  

Tomorrow’s chariot of hope was nonchalant while asking for a plumber,

civilization’s trajectory oversight required Narcan resuscitation.  

Washed up messiah got lost on the way in, 

late for his last supper he broke a thong jaywalking. 

Over the hill Lama, didn’t read the terms & conditions,   

world bearing shoulders shrug off would be miracles 

like water down an armadilla’s back (a W. Bush “armadilla” as seen in Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9/11 when Barney chases one down a hole).

Humanity’s reserve chute slipped the mind. 

The prophet Jeremiah holds open the door,

the willing take a noxious step off

Hook’s threshing world, into a tooth

fairytale matrix of loss as gain.  

The prophet Jeremiah didn’t ask much,

let your eyes wander and your heart 

speak, together the world listens.