Long Man of the cloth Poems
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Oh, to live the life of a fashion faux pas
Cursed by the anathema of dress codes
Choosing blindly the closest hanger
The shirt on top of the pile
That lonely pair of shoes
Hidden amid
Those “too comfortable” to toss
Ratty sneakers and feral boots
Jeans that had holes
Before it became fashionable
T-shirts that mumble comments
In a far corner a shirt with a collar
A lonely pair of pants with a crease
A tie that has been in and out several times
A quiet sports fan he wears no logos
Although he roots loudly
Alone in a drawer somewhere
Are the many attempts at “conversion”
Sweaters, pullovers, and a few
Extremely “elegant” Christmas monstrosities
He wears jackets older than his children
Believing that fraying is the fashion statement
Of the flannel nation
Everyone knows that if he takes the children out
They are coming back dirty
With a new bruise or band-aid to brag about
His granddaughter once asked:
“Papa, why’d you wear that!”
He replied: “cuz it was on top”
I stretch out in a variety of positions
Trying to look my sexiest.
My frothy green leaves
A sensual contrast to
my blazing hot skin
My carotene is rising rapidly
I can feel my cheeks flush
If broccoli does not get here soon.
Was that a footstep?
I gasp. Hold my breath.
Waiting. Onion walks in.
What are YOU doing here? I ask him.
He sees what I am about.
Begins to stammer apologies.
Looking everywhere but at my carrot skin
He is a simple man, pure, chaste, a man of the cloth.
Broccoli asked me to tell you he would be late,
He stammers. I pulled the snap peas around me.
And can barely look at him the next day at church.
A very dear man of the cloth used to sing a song most precious.
The song was entitled, 'Christ Is The Answer", and the line that
most spoke out to me was, 'Life is so uncertain. There are pitfalls
that get in your way'. Pitfalls getting in my way is the story of my life,
but the memory of that little song always reminds and gives me courage.
There is no avoidance of the pitfalls, but we do not have to fall into them.
I tell you, pitfalls are endless, but please allow me to list just a few of them.
Pride is a deadly poison lurking to destroy any who accepts or tolerates it.
Ignorance is often overwhelming, but many times it is a 'selective choice'.
Timidity wraps us up in a cold blanket, rendering love and warmth to none.
Fallacies are like ignorance, but exposure to knowledge and truth is liberating.
Assumptions put barriers, walls, fences, and partitions that create insecurities.
Lies, listed among 'The Ten Commandments' is among the first sins on earth.
Liars are friends to no one, and may they be avoided like a deadly plague.
Situation ethics changes like the wind, and must not be a part of our guide.
012821PS
For a man of the cloth, our dear vicar
is not very partial to clothes
He is almost allergic to trousers
and y-fronts get right up his nose.
Ev’ry Sunday as he climbs in the pulpit
(where the choir boys are sitting below)
His meat and two veg are seen swinging
And it’s proof that he is commando
The ladies who bake and do flowers
don’t know if to scream or to peek
but Olga the Organist’s smiling
and she’s practising eight days a week!
At this year’s summer fete it was breezy
and the wind, I’m afraid, took its toll
His cassock blew up to his waistline
as he served up the last sausage roll
I've heard when he goes on vacation
He suns himself on a nudist beach
and his wife applies his sun lotion
to stop his tush looking like a ripe peach
03/14/20
continued
The Phantom Vampire’s ritual on the foggy nights of the
“Cold Dark Yellow Unhallowed Moon” is to drink the blood
Of as many young innocent people as he can all the while
Destroying their lives and tormenting their souls in an
Unending Existence of evil and debauchery as minions of
The Undead . . . .
As a servant of Lucifer himself, the Phantom Vampire’s
Principal charge is that of a “Soul Seeker”— and seeking
Them he does quite successfully while destroying lives
This unending process is interrupted only by the dawn of
The next day’s morning as the bright rays of sunlight warm
The Earth and purify and sanctify the power and purpose of
The Almighty Lord God . . . .
As a priest . . . a man of the cloth in this bucolic Irish village
Along the sea coast, I hold my head in shame and revulsion
At the evil escapades rendered by the Phantom Vampire
During his nocturnal visits to feed on the blood and souls
Of our innocent people . . . .
I always turn and talk to God while earnestly praying for their
Blind souls through their gossamer eyelids and seeking the
Lord’s divine protection and delivery from this most dark and
Wretched evil . . . May the bright sunlight show them the
Road to true happiness during the Feast of All Souls and to the
Gates of Salvation . . . .
With no fear and with most clear purpose in mind and the divine
Support of our Almighty Lord God in Heaven . . . I shall be the
One fulfilling God’s charge in driving that long wooden stake—
Blessed with Holy Water and Angel’s Dust—through that
Evil dead putrid heart of the Phantom Vampire!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (November 6, 2014)
NO PELLEGREN DIDN'T SERVE WITH MY POP 1944 VICTORY LIBERATING ROME FROM 1942 TO 1946 DURING WW11 NOT CATRINA BELL.MCKISSACK VIOLENT OFFENDER FROM DETROIT NOR WERE THERE ANY MEXICAN VIOLENT OFFENDERS JAMAICAN IDENTITY THIEVES SADLY MEXICAN VIOLENT OFFENDERS HIRED TO BREAK INTO MY HOME SEARCHING FOR MY POP WW11 HONOR WOW HOW BLESSED I AM I SURVIVED THIS CONSPIRACY TO EXTORT WW11 VALOR MY POP SERVED WITH ANTHONY MARIO PUZO THEY MET YEARS LATER VEGAS 1968 HOLIDAY MAGAZINE FEATURED MARIETTA IN FEATHERS SADLY THE MAFIA SENT DEATH THREATS CRUEL. CRIMINAL INTENT A CONSPIRACY TO EXTORT MY POP WW11 HONOR TO FEED TO BITTER MAFIOSOS A CONSPIRACY THREATS OF MY NIDDA AZZ EMANCIPATED GRANDFATHER STANDING NEXT TO THE POPE MY POP PROTECTED POPE JOHN XX111 WE ARE FAMILY MY LIFE WAS THREATENED BY KILLERS DEALERS SENT TO IMPERSONATE ME BY THE DETROIT MAFIA STRANGE LANDS JAMAICAN MEXICAN VIOLENT FEMALES BREAKING INTO OUR HOME RIPPING PAGES FROM MY POP PLD BUS TICKETS TO MY AMERICAN POETRY THESE INTIMIDATING TERRORISTS THREATS TO PERPATRATE IDENTITY FRAUD AGAINST MY DECEASED L9VED ONES INCLUDING MY DAD BORN 1942 VIOLENT OFFENDERS DECIDED TO MURDER ME FOR MY POP WW11 IDENTITY IN ROME BECAUSE I SHARED A PHOTO WITH PETER GARGANO I BELIEVED HE WAS A GENTLE MAN HOLY MAN OF THE CLOTH A KNIGHT OF COLUMBUS INSTEAD HE GATHERED CATRINA BELL AND A FLEET OF FEMALE VIOLENT OFFENDER TO SLANDER MY FAMILY THE MAFIA JUST WASN'T HAPPY WITH MY POP PROTECTING THE POPE AND LIBERATING ROME TRULY SAD MY PRAYERS ARE WITH ALL OF THESE INDIVIDUALS IT IS SUCH A BEAUTIFUL BLESSING TO HAVE BEEN TOUCHED BY A SAINT I AM BLESSED
McGee and Finn where working again
performing some road repairs
Across from a place of constant disgrace
A den of sorted affairs
Soon comes by, a Jewish Rabbi
And after the coast seemed clear,
slips on in, to the house of sin
And all Finn could do was sneer
"Is nothing holy to a man of the cloth"
Said McGee while raising his spade
I won't be his judge, nor carry a grudge
But I'm sure he'll be measured and weigh
A little while after, there came an old Pastor
who lurked around the front door
Keeping and eye, if someone might spy
Him darting in the first floor
But McGee caught sight of this sinners delight
and looked to the heavens again
And said "These Protestants know nothing of God"
With his hand on his heart, agreed Finn
A short while later, both excavators, notice a Catholic Priest
He was looking around, to see no one was found
And both were surprised, said the least
When the Priest went on in, to that dark house of sin
Then McGee just started to cry,
With his hat in his hand, spoke to Finn once again
Proclaiming
"One of the girls must have died"
Never had I met a man of the cloth more worthy of honor.
When I met him at the age of 19, he was around 35 and pastoring.
Very early on, it was clear that he was a gentleman and an overcomer.
When I met him, I was a freshman in college studying to become a pastor.
From a local church, he later became a bishop, very strong in his teaching.
I was deeply honored to have him marry my bride and me one June summer.
In a very large denomination, he was sought after and quickly began ascending.
072421PSCtest, Julyme, William Kekaula
7 structured lines, Rhyming scheme-abacbab
Judy woke up pregnant just as her one-night stand was leaving into oblivion.
What was new
Hell introduced him, hell could have him back
She remembered another man
A man of the cloth
What were the words he always spoke
The dead are amongst us
The living below
They sent him abroad when they found out
Faith and sex
They just didn’t go together
Not in that church anyway
She remembered changing the words
The dead are amongst us
The living below
I won’t be carrying no bastard
Never in tow
For a while, it consoled
The first bottle of wine helped
The second did the trick
She passed out real quick
It was while she was sleeping
Her unconscious mind played the words back to her
The dead are amongst us
The living below
She was one of the dead ones
Existing, but not living
The living had lived their lives
They were fulfilled and ready to go
It was enough to bring her round
She understood him now
The words had finally hit home
She did something the next day she’d promised she would never do again
She entered the church
She’d lit many candles before
But this one was special
She lit it for all the dead people walking amongst us
A wry smile showed on her face as she left
Time to get living, Judy girl
Time to go.
Basset Hound had a gift to deliver, but he forgot to whom.
He had reminded himself by remembering to say witch’s broom.
Was it Witch Hazel? Asked his mother, trying to help.
He thought it was another, possibly the northern elk.
But why would he give him a gift? They did not get along.
Would it help you to sing a Christmas Gift Song?
This was his father’s idea; he loved braying and singing.
Basset Hound joined in the chorus, his voice ding-a-linging.
You have such a baritone voice! The church vicar said.
Would you like to use it to sing in the choir? I know the head.
Basset Hound decided it was fate to run into a man of the cloth.
He never delivered the package, but this worried him not.
For he was now an official choir member of Church Number Two.
He started being happy and joyful and he stopped being blue.
He now is a fine member of a choir that sings loud and clear.
He can probably deliver this package to someone next year.