Poem: The Hours at Saint Rasputin Syrian Orthodox Church

By: Chuck Orloski

grigori-rasputin-beard-robe

Hemophiliac Damascus,
those eyes, those eyes, Rasputin’s eyes,
like Russian S-300’s activated at abyss.
Seducer, Gregory can’t get close
to Czar Putin’s Alexandra,
she doesn’t like beards & hooligans.
Those eyes, scary eyes!
What the hell is he looking at?
An Israeli jet fighter scared rebels,
and the USS Liberty ghost on lookout
in the Med.
Frustrated, Czar Putin found no chlorine on Rasputin’s prayers; slight evidence of Stoly vodka on Basher Assad’s breath.
Saint Rasputin persists to deny a connection to keeping Romanov-Russia in WW I.
And if only Franz Ferdinand on-parade had ducked?
Yes, yes, Stormy Georgia Oblate,
Gregory heard all the rumors circulating
about “Russiagate” and he understands how Mueller yearns to book mad monks.

The Fire & Fury Sermon, Sunday of the Samaritan Woman, April 29, 2018:
While vacationing at Jacob’s Well, in spa-town called Sichar,
many a time did Nicholas II thirst
to ‘bring home troops” & Make Russia Great Again,
but Saint Rasputin could not cure the Tsarevich’s hemophilia ’til Ekaterinburg kingdom come.
Those eyes, those chemical eyes…,
Gregory’s in Neva, shot down by Tomahawks!
He only wanted to see an Israel Spring.

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