In a land of 93 people
lived a preacher and a nun
In a church without a steeple
they professed to 91
The sermon was quite boring
so seven found the door
They left amidst the snoring
leaving only 84
The nun looked to the altar
and the scary hanging Jew
Twice 11 faltered
and that left 62
But the preacher kept on talking
and he didn't skip a line
Then 13 more were walking
leaving only 49
The nun began to worry
as she saw the empty pews
They were leaving in a hurry
by sixes, fours, and twos
A dozen minutes later
they were in the church alone
The ****** masterbater
and his faithful penguin drone
"So what are we supposed to do?"
the preacher asked the nun
They started out with 92
(or was it 91?)
To be honest it was 93
including priest and nun
You'd think that I would know this
as I wrote it in line 1
But the time is getting very late
perhaps I now can sleep
These lines are not so very great
and not so very deep
But they served my shallow purpose
as my eyes begin to close
And since nothing rhymes with purpose
I believe it's time to go
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 10:04 AM UTC
Far off in the distance
I hear her fretful wail
No purpose in resistance
it would be to no avail
Like Sirens from an ancient ode
she heralds my demise
Inviting me to her abode
and all that it implies
As a lamb unto the slaughter
in innocence I go
A manipulated plotter
of a life I could not know
Thus my friend I go to her
and freely seal my fate
I ask that you do not demur
for the hour is getting late
And so I bid the world adieu
and leave this disarray
As for the likes of me and you
there can be no other way
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:24 AM UTC
Working on my first folk song
My demons are many
My angels are few
and the time for redemption
is long overdue
For the songs that we sang
from that merciless pew
were just words from an old
dying tome
But the gates of the garden
are opened at last
and an old voice is calling
me home
So to all of my critics
and all of my friends
I’ve loved every one of you
time and again
But the wheel must turn
from beginning to end
and my time with you
is now fading
For the darkness that
soon overshadows us all
will not long be keeping
me waiting
And finally I must
in good conscience proclaim
that the gods that divide us
are one and the same
And it matters not much
if we call them by name
for the names that we praise
are illusion
For the gods resonate
in reflections of men
and within we will
find absolution
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 4:23 PM UTC
Moses brought the rules
for every sinner saint
and fool
And handed each a portion
of the blame
But a man is only wise
when he begins to realize
that a wise man
never ever plays
the game
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
Warning! This poem contains foul language and the subject matter is intended for those who share my warped sense of humor (or humour for my European friends). If you are easily offended or devoutly religious, you should probably skip this one. That said, my apologies to Dr. Seuss.
And all the Hos knew there
was something quite odd
about this strange little
self-professed servant
of God
Father Xmas
Every ** down in Hoville
liked ******* a lot
but the Priest who lived
just north of Hoville did not
The Priest hated *******
(at least with the women)
He much preferred cute
little boys for his sinnin'
Why he was so nasty
and hateful and sly
I guess no one really
could understand why
Some said he was born
with only one ball
Some said that his shorts
were two sizes too small
But whatever the reason
his shorts or his *****
He hated the Hos
both the tall and the small
'When the clocks strike eleven
I know just what they’ll do
They will take off their clothes
and commence a ** screw'
'And they’ll ***** and they’ll *****
till their screwers are sore
Then they’ll all take a break
and start ******** some more'
And the more the Priest thought
of the Hos and their ********
the more the priest thought
'they must stop what they're doing'
'I could call the police
Have them taken to jail'
But the Hos knew good lawyers
and would quickly make bail
'Then they’d all wander home
and resume the ** *******
They’d resume the ** hand jobs
They’d resume the ** sucking'
Then he threw up his hands
and said 'Oh what the Hell!
If I fancied ***** I’d be
******** as well'
So the Priest left the Hos
to their ****** ploys
and he climbed into bed
with two altar boys.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
Beyond the chaos of the border
between reason and disorder
lies a world that ever beckons
to the darkness in my soul
A land of everlasting laughter
that was once and will be after
all the things we thought
we fathomed turn to dust
in granite holes
Take me far beyond the steeple
to a land of unscathed people
where no single rule or concept
dooms us all to God’s abyss
Show me love without condition
without heaven or perdition
where no act of false contrition
guarantees eternal bliss
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 1:07 PM UTC
A bowl
Just a bowl
Empty but for a rotting pear
and the core of a once green
apple
The shadows pass over this table
as the setting sun drifts into
the abyss of an Autumn sky
Darkness now
The bowl all but vanishing
in the solitude of a moonless
transgression
The bottle
Oh yes, the bottle
I can see it's outline
in the forgotten drag
of the day's last cigarette
Amber solace to sooth
a tortured mind and numb
a jaded soul
Until morning...
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
Once, long ago
I gazed upon
the world with
conformity’s eyes
and found it absurd
And I cursed existence
and my fellow man
I built a wall to defend
the tattered remnants
of the sanity I perceived
I still possessed
I built a wall that quickly
became a desolate prison
standing cold in the face
of forgiveness and love
I ignored beauty’s gentle bliss
I insulted love in the name
of an antiquated morality
Oh spirits
Oh demons
Oh harbingers
of what lies
beyond
perception
It was to you
that I entrusted
my salvation
It was to you that
I prayed in expectation
of deliverance
I begged for naught
but a cessation of being
to relieve the nightmare
of existence
In desperation
I grasped the reins
of intolerance
I drew the sword
of superficial righteousness
carving a swath of condemnation
through the ranks of my brothers
for the sake of a disapproving God
I wounded virtue in the name of heaven
I exchanged reason for faith
I threw compassion to the dogs of indifference
What pain has my existence
brought my fellow man?
My path to salvation lies
hidden among the bones
of those I once held dear
Heaven should not
exact such remuneration
for paradise cannot be
purchased with the blood
of hatred and the
tears of martyred tolerance
I will not kneel before
such an altar
Not again
Never again
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
A Princess in the castle tower
The night has just begun
A prisoner of beauty's power
lies hidden from the sun
The darkness welcomes loneliness
the moonlight disappears
A north wind sings an ancient song
to reinforce her fears
She offers up a hopeless plea
to any god who cares
While knowing nothing ever came
from unpretentious prayers
Abandoning the waking world
she dreams of being free
Dancing on a pedestal
for everyone to see
But the morning sun appears again
to welcome back her tears
A devastating ray of gold
illuminates her fears
While outside on the windowsill
the jester starts to sing
And gently pulls the curtain closed
to hide the flaxen string
She hears the children laugh and cheer
The jester tells a joke
He wears a hat of silver bells
to camouflage the hoax
The maiden slowly comes to life
beneath the jester’s power
Another grand performance
by the Princess in the tower
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 3:38 PM UTC
I've read that all things in creation
Are the will of the King of Salvation
But given the state
Of man's sorry fate
I believe I'd prefer abdication
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC