Temple of Music

Some mornings I awake a Cult Centre
of idolatrous worship

Hutchence morphs into Kravitz upon the pane

Mercury's chest hair flashes by the glass as I grab my towel

Traces of the Pop King stare back as I decide what I'll be changing into

Bon Jovi reflects from the water in the sink as I rinse my razor

Shower droplets multiply portraits of Seal in the Sahara

In my mind's eye my car sweeps by
only its a taxi and Lionel is in my driver seat

I surrender to the psychosis

and hop into the passenger seat
as we sing love ballads to our goddesses:

Madonna, Anggun and Gwen

(Astaghfrulillah!)