blasphemy
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In this poem,
The name of my crush has been redacted
And replaced with the word "god":
God,
you’re hot
But that’s another poem.
God,
let me write poems about you.
America,
The Beautiful?
Home of the enslaved,
Where those who are brave,
Are said to have no brain,
Where freedom of speech is limited,
Help!
I did it again.
I walked to the priest with my face reflecting pain.
I said to him, “Priest, you are the modern quintessence of Cain!”
“Priest, you are this society’s pain!”
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
As omniscient as you are
I find myself alone
I find no solace in your temple
nor is it in your hand
Its no longer in your eyes
or your voice
or your smile
I find no home in your arms
