Somebody suggested recently that I should make my own posts and stop photobombing other people’s. The trouble is that I never have anything much to say. Other people are so much better than me at it, and the fact that I grab onto their shirttails is a form of flattery combined with habitual laziness.
Anyway, in another conversation with someone else the subject of God’s meal schedule came up and led to the following silliness. I think I waver a bit off track and never really get back on it …. but, you know … whatever. It’s a post.
*
My God, he answers questions
And I had myself a bunch
I went to the confessional
Just acting on a hunch
Whispered my confession
And waited for his punch
But there was nobody to listen
God was out to lunch
So I climbed up to the bell tower
To see if God was there
Though despite the view provided
I couldn’t see Him anywhere
I pulled the rope and rang the bell
To give the world a scare
But a flock of sleeping pigeons
Were the only ones to care
I saw a priest below me
Who God relied upon
To answer tricky questions
Or if not, just pass them on
But he was busy with an alter boy
Displaying Christian love
And I chose not to disturb them
Or to look down from above
A passing woman spoke to me
A kindly looking nun
‘Come to me my child,’ she said
‘And speak with me my son.’
‘I was looking for the priest’, I said
‘But the priest is having fun.
I have for him some questions.’
She said, ‘you’re not the only one.’
At last the devil came to me
And listened to my song
‘Let me take you to a place’, he said,
‘Where I think you might belong.
Where strength is just a weakness
And where the weak are strong
Where wrong is almost always right
And right is always wrong.’
I accepted his suggestion
It was too late to reform
Now I tiptoe through these endless flames
And I dance within this storm
I knew you would forsake me, Lord
‘Cause I was not made to conform
The fire here burns eternally
And I find it nice and warm.
*
Richmond Road 
👏 I like this…a lot!
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Never underestimate your talent for writing posts! Especially when you write one like this! Superb! Love it! Spot-on! Like Fandango says … “I like this … a lot!”
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do.not. ever. put yourself down as a poet. Sir.
This is funny, and real, and goofy and perfect.
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Thank you so very much
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never put yourself down as a poet. This is funny, and real, and I wish I had thought of it first. bravo bravo.
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Sometimes, the less thought that goes into things the better.
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and oh the terrifying moments that view of the Confessional brings back.
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I wasn’t brought up as a Catholic, and I kind of wish I had been. The temptation to confess to stuff far worse than I had actually done would have been overwhelming.
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I hope you ignore critics. They know nothing, I love your responses on my posts. You remind me if Sam McGee😂
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“confess your sins
no more, no less
do not neglect
the smallest speck
or wantonly avoid
the swarming void
of hell and purgatory
by leaving out the story
of how it all came to be
(just between the priest and thee)”
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Father, where do I begin
To outline every wicked sin
To show myself before you thus
To throw myself beneath a bus
I beg you for another chance
Forget my night in Becky’s pants
Ignore my greed, my mortal lust
Ash to ashes, dust to dust
Come on God, give me a smile
Retribution’s not your style
Sit back and enjoy a giggle
Try to picture Becky’s wiggle
Father we will get on fine
I’ll keep your secrets, you keep mine
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