On my good days I’m a Pharisee (a poem)
I’m a corpse wearing a crown
I’m a corpse wearing a crown
With the amount of money they had, they could have easily gotten a high-end prostitute or escort to satisfy their whims. But evidently, that wasn’t enough. There was not enough edge or risk of being caught.
God loves to eat.
I didn’t know what to expect. I knew these people were not Christians, and I knew they would at least be drinking, if not wildly drunk…