I slipped a sawbuck
to the crippled Pope
way back when
when it was still possible
to buy your way into Heaven.
Then, like a camel
through the needle’s eye,
heated and glowing,
blinding all to the sight
of the numbers
on a bank statement,
goodness reigned
in the heart’s of the hypocrites,
dirty kneed urchins
proclaming their worthiness.

And I tore my lapels,
and scored my flesh,
putting pistol to open mouth,
razor to wrist,
indulging in rituals to speed my way
past the needy few
to secure my interview,
curious as always,
scouring the legalese,
searching to find where the rules changed.

I was thrown a bone
with a bit of gristle,
a watery soup of my dour lamentations.
Ipso facto, my habeas corpus
overlooked the fine print,
the ink on the time line;
indulge in the self as much as you see fit,
whine and cry, gesture and decry,
raise your fists in the air and scream “WHY?”

…but it’s gonna cost you.

——-

It’s raining today.
Is God in the heavens
crying for us lost souls?
Crocodiles line the gates,
snapping at whatever hapless toes
dare to venture past the Demilitarized Zone.

It was just a simple
flick of the Bic,
red ash falling,
the Word that ignited thought.
Satan kicked himself,
realizing it was all too easy,
while God sat back
and blew smoke rings.

Maybe He had pity on us,
sending spittle our way
to cool our frying brains,
sending welcome relief
to those who had taken the heat
for Jesus for far too long.

I believe in nothing
and everything,
belief in the right
to choose my own inaccuracies,
my own way to singe my soul.
I’m sending a tear or two
right back at you, Lord.

I believe,
I believe…

I believe I’ll have another beer.