SERIOUSLY I WANTED TO BE PULPIT PIMP (then i leaned about religions)

THE DAY I WENT TO BE A LOW PRIEST

I wanted to be a preacher priest of one order of another

as long as I got to work in the poorest borders;

but couldn’t get into the seminary,

possibly because the old bishop who interviewed me

had never taken any Psilocybin fungi’s

or maybe I shouldn’t have chewed a few

before I went to his excellent Excellency’s spirit Raven

walled cave of oak. With its Aircraft carrier sized desk

filled with phones enough to make any president proud.

I was not making a joke as I sat and chanted

the earth creatures way for a sunrise filled with peace

and ahead day to carry hope to the nations of the peoples

who had been beaten down in their beds

for their Christian theology of paid for sin.

Where was hell in all this mess

I remember (or think I do)

The holy hell filled liar asked me?

Pointing in all his non theological

thousands of years old madness I was spouting

to explain still this is the day for love

to still be sprouting in his poor ass church.

It was a long time ago but I remember the birds,

for they started to sing, when a trippin’ me

didn’t know I was supposed to bow down

and kiss a piece of gem filled gold.

God knows I am glad now

I never did such a thing for who knows

the many unholy places that ring could have been.

Needless to say “rejected” I didn’t make the cut

was escorted out to the iron barred seminary gate

but I’ll be damned if the guard didn’t stop first

at the financial contribution plate.

Then I heard the word of God inside my heart and head

and left them a gift of spiritual mushrooms instead.

© M Durfee

1.14.2014

THE UPSIDE TO BEING A BROKEN BONE BAROMETER

Humidity laden sabers are taking my shoulders off

my feet are beating me upside the head

with the stumps of what once were strong limbs.

It’s the strong arm tactics

of being a human weather barometer with benefits.

You’re always are pre-pared for a change in the weather.

If only change in the heart was as easily recognized as arthritic joints,

maybe, just maybe we would stop completing (incorrectly)

other people’s feelings

then we could all Alleve© this place

friends born of pain but grown in peace.

© M Durfee

1.14.2014