Confessions Of A Failed Catholic

I'm invoking the spirits
I'm wishing them well
I'm doing a charismatic dance
I'm singing dour hymns
And asking what's the true cost of hell
I'm holding choirs for rehabilitation
I'm trying to do my best
I'd like to say the man on the cross was right
Its the book that's always wrong

What little men have knelt before
Watch what this one does now
Could be Yahweh, could be a whore
That's the culture in me
I've put a flower in a button hole
I've sleeked my hair back for a while
I can't picture where faith's gone
Or how it even started
Doubt has crept in now
I'll try my best to fight it
It started as a chant in my room
To fight the "Just War" theory
That's all it is for powers though
Just, another thing to get on with
Just, and ever so sweetly

I will tell all the bishops
Even the vicar of Christ
Of how a woman lifted her skirt for me
How I enjoyed everything that was on offer
How celibacy is not a practise for me
How it shouldn't be a gig for some of you guys either
The priest looked at me as I spoke
Like an old fighter, twelfth round and still up
I tell him to bless all the women I've met
Even the ones whose lessons I didn't get
They've kept me young and strong
They shouldn't be in frocks of black and white
But out here, disrobed and comforting
To keep a man warm in Winter
And bless his Summer days with fruit
I changed tact at this

I told him to not love the next Nazis
Try your best to not burn those who like sex
Forgive the divorced, the ones who aborted, the ones who simply try their best
The ingenuousness ones who ache for a rest
The ones who sheathed on a condom or two
Forgive them - they know what they do
His ears were shut, I changed again

I thanked him for those hard floors and pews
Simplicity is now a friend
The old guilt saved me from a couple scenarios
That free funeral you gave my father was handy
I believe you thought he was Irish
I apologise for accepting your gift
For not setting you straight
"There's nothing like optimism", he said
"There's nothing like dreaming your days away."
With that he anointed my forehead
And sent me on my way

Copyright of Christopher Alexander Simpson