I Prefer My Own Church

I love my church I built it myself from scratch Over many years All my saints are buried underneath And fill the hall with their echoes My High Priestess comes to visit me often When my time is filled with dreams And trivial pursuits I can be the Pope in my own church Cardinals sit in a long row And listen to my endless sermons It feels good To be nailed to a cross And suffer a slow death Suffering has many shades and answers Not encountered in an ordinary life Where people come and go My footprints are worshipped My teeth are kept in a brocade purse By my female companions The Divine delivers many answers In my own church I can weep as long as I want Blessed is my intercourse I turn the page every day In my own church There is no room for other gods No shelter for strange religions And papal audiences You can come and worship with me If you are a lesbian And not engaged with my wife There are many benches in my church To kneel down on and bow your head I am free in my own church I am not anyone’s slave or servant God takes it easy with me And never has to discipline my wild side Orgasms are free In my church and amplified Most cathedrals charge for that Or claim to not have heard of it