Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2017
Saturday/Sunday morning.
Sun rose up from
behind the trees.
Over did it last night.
Door bell rings and the sound
you hear is so razor sharp
that it guts and mutilates
your dreams and suddenly,
you're rudely awakened.
Muster yourself out of bed.
Open the door in your underwear.
Sunlight blasts your dilated eyes.
Two well dressed alter boys
are at your front steps.
The local place of worship
sent for recruiters
to fill up their pockets
with non exempt tax dollars.
They've got "The Book" in one hand.
Pamphlets in another.
Well prepared.
Here with only one purpose.
One goal in mind.
The morning vampires.
Just like you were the night
before when engaging in
such debauchery.
Bothersome irritants
of the weekend daybreak.
They've already judged you
up and down before
they say their first word.
Feasting eyes see a blood
doughnut to sink their teeth in
and inject "the word" into your veins
so fast it'll make you nauseous.
Well worded tongues.
20 year old virgins,
who want to talk to you about life.
Something they know nothing about
or have ever experienced.
Only what they've been told.
At this point,
in your irascible state of mind
and hungover conditions.
Natural reaction is like a hornets nest.
Scream obscenities, shoe them off
and slam the door in their faces.
They're numb to this rejection.
They'll just move on to the next house.
But what if you caught them by surprise?
You said, "yes" and invited them inside
your home.
Now you've caught them
with their pants down.
They're not use to this
kind of hospitality from outsiders.
Be cordial.
Coffee or tea?
One lump or two?
Have a seat on the couch.
Make yourself comfortable.
**** them with kindness.
Let them talk but
don't let them overtake.
They're in your house.
Full of sins and vices.
An honest man is always in trouble.
You begin the debate.
You believe in one thing,
they believe in another.
Disagree with everything they say.
If they tell you hell
is all fire and brimstone.
You tell them
it's a frozen wasteland.
Peddlers of the higher power
are like painters,
putting on the first coat of Bible verses,
in hopes that they'll stick
to the walls of your ear canals.
You listen but you don't feed upon.
Careful onslaught responses.
Turn everything they're saying around.
Send them spiraling
into a vortex of absurdity.
You've debunked what they
believe to be is true.
Fairytales are fairytales.
Women being subsidiary
to a man is obsolete.
They preach about an ancient book
that is no longer relevant
to the modern world.
Go against the grain.
They may not know it.
You may not know it.
But you're doing them a service.
Getting them to think outside the box.
Open their mind from their sheltered upbringing.
Free thinkers.
Believe what they want to believe.
Not the spoon fed lectures
and implausible sermons
that have been handed down.
They listen but not going to let
a little thing like "sense"
get in the way of what's been
ingrained inside their thick skulls.
Thank you for your time.
Come over next week
and we'll talk again.
They move over to the next house.
In one ear, out the other.
Preaching the same word.
Wasted time.
Story of my life.
Back to bed.
Rick the shoe shine boy
Written by
Rick the shoe shine boy  36/M/Couch to couch USA
(36/M/Couch to couch USA)   
   Brooke P
Please log in to view and add comments on poems