Monday, February 11, 2013

Lundi Gras and the Pope

Lundi Gras and it is raining and expected to rain tomorrow
Wednesday will probably be sooty and sunny so the smear won’t run
The pope announced his ‘elective’ early retirement to the world this morning
Mumbled something to the cardinals in mass in Latin  

Half of them did not even register the language
Bad news from corporate put it out on Friday afternoon,
Bad news from the Vatican put it out on Monday morning after the Sunday tithes
Days before Lent, the season of forgiveness 

Press release says he is ‘old,’ What ‘priest’ is not going to want
That transcendent handshake with Saint Peter at the gates?
“Hey bud, I was your place-holder on Earth, I was Pope, put me in the special line.
Straight up pimp to J.C. with the endless bowl of meatballs and coverall tunics.” 

St. Pete will be like, “Nah Joe you were Pope, I got Ray Jay now. 
You quit a month before you croaked, so instead of the special line, you can umm,
come and talk in this office about those files you kept from the world about the
penises in the sphincters of deaf children and school after school
of praying the sin away.” Yeah retiring for health reasons  

The gilded toilets and bedazzled Vatican latrines
The toilet paper made out of aborted fetus skin wiping the feces of the pope
The boy-men hand-maids to do the immaculate cleansing through the forest
Of old-man ass hair on bended knee, body in hand 

We care about all life, oh yeah the living especially the living
Talking point remember the living
No condoms, better with the Aids, just don’t insert penis in vagina
My God says only in a marriage, only in a marriage 

Bought an island put all the sinner-priests on there
No wait put ‘em up in Vatican city, give him servants and let them pray
They are not men, these are priests!  What were we thinking? 

Oh, the billions! The billions of giving to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s
A statehood granted by fascists, Mussolini made proud to the hymn of Woody’s guitar
Like a vampire stake or holy water sprinkle, held like a firehouse
In old Rome the firemen were the richest extortionists,
Pay protection money or we’ll burn you down 

Burning, burning Rome is burning
Out in the darkness, this is the way religion dies in the truth coming with the sunrise
The people reclaiming goodness from the financiers, no commodity market on morality
Owned more free than the air in white smoke from elected chimneys   

The square is brimming for God to speak and the balcony has always been empty

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