Tuesday, January 14, 2014

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

 


12 comments:

  1. its interesting...i was a pastor for about 5 years...and while in the beginning i felt closer to god the further into it i got the further i realized it was...and becomes just as much like most any business or profeesion and then in leaving ministry found myself working with those in the low income housing and such...and found god much closer...

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    Replies
    1. At one time I was offered a temporary congregation as a pulpit pimp until they could find a permanent one with a degree. I hitchhiked out of town the next day.

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  2. Where was hell in all this mess? What an odd question: sure, pastor,et's seek out the underworld

    Friends born of pain but grown in peace: beautiful, mark. Do our arthritic joints have anything to do with our slow and steady leans to peace? Would I trade accept Aches for peaceful limbs?

    Love
    kj

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    Replies
    1. kj Obviously you do not know a lot of preacher men. They seek out free good scotch before anything else, there's plenty of time to consign the sinners to a figment of their imagination.

      Delete
  3. I hate spellcheck, but, you know...right?
    xo

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  4. I like that your fungi eating body wanted to go to seminary. I didn't long for seminary but did want to go help out the down trodden and poor--did that as a volunteer for several years at the homeless shelter. No religion but food. Cooked and served. It was good.

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    Replies
    1. C'mon Syd you have to admit some mushroom soup is some good eating. I got over the seminary thing pretty quick, helping people is easier without a dude telling you what you can and can't do anyway.

      Delete
  5. I love the phrase "humidity laden sabers." Excellent!

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    Replies
    1. I loved edible fungus so there Charles we're even.

      Delete
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    ReplyDelete
  7. Meowmomma I guffaw at the fools who do not understand the meaning of the words they spout from memory.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Mark, mushrooms bad. Bad, bad, bad!! Especially the ones found at the pulpit of Key West! xo

    ReplyDelete

So Walking Man I was thinking...