Blasphemax
Maximillian was a boy
and oh, how coy was this boy
to alleviate his cordoroy!
It's almost scary
to think of Teresa and Mary
as an audience not contrary
to the values Max deluged
when he let his purity sploodge.
Truly, the epitome
of a gracious, Christian youth
from the window
to the booth
Sweet, beautiful Mary
whom birthed the lord, himself
Maximillian says,
"'Tis to your health!
For this ambition
is to carry on your tradition
'Obstinate in abstinence'
be a powerful volition.
Pardon my weak-willedness
but I require surrogates
in such an ideal mission."
To the pastor
(whom is master
of the chapel)
whom proclaimed "nevermore!"
to the controversies of before,
when his colleague stood accused
of abuse,
(likening a child to a whore)
and rejecting the notion
that, breaking devotion
the holy men betrayed themselves
by a Mary exchange,
(yet, with someone else)
Maximillian remained guiltless,
defending himself with this
rationalization,
of acting on his own temptation
(although behind a damaged reputation,
every train goes to its station,
credit to you
which credit is due,
the defense was thoughtful
(and logical, too!))
"If our seeds aren't to be spilled on the ground, then where should they go?
For the ground is from whence all life grows!
Like Adam, who arose from the dust
I'm simply doing what I must
to remain fruitful
with a mind-set agricultural!
And ask any yeomen,
he surely will tell,
of the factors which most cause
his planting of crops to become toil,
it's not the flood or drought,
but the soil.
So, really, my peculiar allocation;
being that of holy ground,
is actually the place which suits seeds well
for crops are prosperous in Heaven,
not Hell.
Yet, it is known
men can't live on bread alone,
the savior is one whom they must have known.
Simply, like any good acquantince
I established, with companion's parent
a strong affiliation
(this I'd believe an unconflicted statement,
for the magnitude of my acquaintment
is, quite literally,
biblically)."
To this, the father had but one resound
"zounds!"
Out in the public, the story caused quite a racket
so the father thought of a way to retract it.
He thought of a lesson, as all pastors should
he gave it to Max, to make him good.
In a circle of dirt, the priest said,
"Max, this is your field,
this round little bed,
plant in it now,
as to rest your head."
Maximillian obeyed, without second thought
and planted an acorn
into the little plot.
An elaborate scorn
awaited Max
when the priest brought him back;
When the tree reached full mass
"See," said the father,
"When I had you plant this tree that day,
in this very plot,
I had already thought
of my own little plot.
For the sake of turning something I need to say,
into something I've said,
I bring you back here, to this very bed.
See this tree?"
"Ye, I do."
"Pay attention,
it encapsulates an important lesson
for you.
You say you're a farmer,
because you planted this seed,
this, however, your blasphemy does not areed.
You are more akin to this worm, or this weed.
The weed for bad discipline;
the malignant way you've articulated our lessons
does not make you a good Christian,
it elects you for equivocation professions.
It does as you do,
absorbing the roots,
in lieu
of our bedrock truths;
in creating a new force,
you destroy the source.
Next is the worm,
which you've earned for bad form.
You deal with Earth, sure
that is correct,
but more-so than a farmer,
in this creature's respect
(even if he slithers,
and you be erect)
your assesment of allocation is errant,
for this worm doesn't belong here,
that is apparent.
On holy ground, cylinders spewing filth
are not of our ilk.
Lastly, the tree itself, perhaps most noteworthy of all,
with its clear girth, how strong and how tall!
Though you be in its position,
you differ in disposition,
for the only wood which be suitable to found the church
Is that which grows from, not of, the Earth."
Maximillian, though most deviant,
posseses cunning most convenient.
In response to his trouble,
he thought of a rebuttal
most expedient.
"You call me a weed,
yet I spot in you the same malignance
which you accuse me of,
via misplaced possesive;
'Our' ideals, you state,
as if commoners aren't allowed to participate;
as if the clergy
be the only worthy
members of the church;
the only one to interpret (and alter)
its works.
Let me remind you that, if this were the case
you would dwell in much different estates;
if you held that much worth
you'd live in Heaven, not Earth.
Then, the worm,
which on me you've pinned for bad form
is a necessity, whose necessity you overturn.
They are the soil managers,
and henceforth the Earth's substantiators;
the ground is better for which the worm
has beaten,
eaten,
and does overturn;
their redirection
brings any ground (holy or unholy)
nearer perfection.
Of the tree,
I will see,
this tree is not me,
but not on the grounds of your indication,
(for I bear counter-stipulation;
a tree holds no ideology)
instead, for that, of a differed rationalization.
This tree and I hold different positions,
which result in differed dispositions;
Its responsibility: material
to be of use
Mine: worker
to make use.
Churches are not built by trees,
they're built with trees,
by men with pads on their knees.
I am the worker, not the source,
such an occupation requires force;
a proper force which I exerted
when I left my love deserted."
"Indeed you have," replied the priest,
"Your mendacity attests to this, in the least.
I pose you with this inquiry,
not meant to be a threat,
but of all your actions, which is the best?
Is it this one you defened, strainly,
or rather one which accomodates itself, plainly?"
"I suppose the latter," Max admitted,
and, in so, relented.
"Then, let me put it simply,
and have it simply put;
it's simple to understand,
simply understood;
forget the figurative weed, worm, and wood,
if it was good,
it would've seemed good."
"You said 'would'
in place of 'should.' "
" 'Should' alone
is enough to have known."
And with that simple statement,
Max abandoned his abatement
and gave in to
undisputable, simple virtue.