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
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