[lit-ideas] Sunday Poems

HOW MANY CARROTS IN A TURNIP OF CHRISTIANS?
Catholics, it's true,
believe in 
Marian voodoo.
Unlike Protestants who
never know if their faith is true-
ly true
or just a pale imitation of
the God Above's 
anticipation of
faith-based expectation of
Armaggedon.
The Jews refuse to choose.
The Muslims hide their women.
I go swimming.


The following three poems are in my new (30 years in the writing) masterpiece.  
They are written by a  Mideveval Literature professor, a middle-aged ostensibly 
mousy woman -- an Emily Dickinson sort --who, though not a central character, 
advances the story with her poems.  Yes, it's all about sex.  I'd love to know 
that someone was offended by any of these.  Thank you in advance.  P. S. You 
might have seen some of these lines before if you were paying attention.




GOD AMONG MEN

             God stepped out of his Cadillac car,

              looked around, 

              lit a big cigar, 

              set a golden hat on his silver head,

              nodded.

              Men fell dead.





NEED TO BE NEEDED



  Such suckers are men,

  I don't mean to offend,

  but so easy to impress, 

  forget best-dressed,

                                      any old breast will do.

                                     Hey, you,

                                     suck on this.

            

"To suckle fools and chronicle small beers."

Fate of the virtuous?  Ah, there's the fear.

Every swivel of swivey hips

every parting of the lips,

every letting's wetting,

relentless cry of the thighs,

all that virtue denies

proceeds from the need to be needed.

There.  Conceded.





AIR WAYS



Air is fed,

            Aristotle said,

into a dick,  

            inflating it quick 

and making it thick, 

stiff as a stick. 

           I wonder did Jesus know

           that isn't so?

           And if incarnate's true,            

          as a man, what did he do

          with his erections?

          Submit them to corrections,

          i.e.,

          deny them,

         defy them?

         Or did he,

         curiously,

         try them?            



Mike Geary

 



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