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Pulpit Dweller
by Max BouilletPot bellied and
ripe with wine and God
the pulpit dweller
deftly deals the holy hors doeuvres.
Probing pudgy fingers
glut wafers
between humid vermilion lips
to flickering tongues
fresh from brags
of slithery sex.
The nocturnal stain glass smash
discharges the licks of a thousand
cocottes suckling his
fingers for the gist God. 06/22/2003 Posted on 06/23/2003
Copyright © 2024 Max Bouillet
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Mara Meade on 06/23/03 at 12:41 PM The beauty of this is that I can't tell if its "scathing" or a charicature... well-described either or any way. Whoo... |
| Posted by Amanda J Cobb on 06/23/03 at 07:39 PM After reading Mara's comment, I must say that I think 'scathing' is definitely the word for this. A very neat piece on the hypocrisy of the church. Well done. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/27/03 at 09:00 PM Worthy expression of the cyncism so many of us now attach to organized religion. |
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