Confessions

Everyone’s a politician,

everyone’s a journalist.

And none of us has inhibitions

when it comes to tales to twist.

I went to see my physician

in her office inside my tomb.

For practice, she writes out prescriptions

just to kill the kids in their wombs.

My preacher makes his confession

to the girls who are blonde and young.

He lays on his hands, as his mission,

and exhibits the gifts of his tongues.

Professors write dissertations

in order to hide all the facts.

And if you want real information,

--well, you needn’t even ask.

At open mike, that thin coed

that said she hungered for new verse,  

("You I'll fill," said I, "your poet.")
starves though swallowed Complete Works.

Was Jesus tacked to an easel

so Romans could paint him later?

They staged all the acts of apostles

just to build wings for their theaters.

And everyone had truth to twist

till they convinced me I was cured.

But when I asked, my psychiatrist

sneered. “Why, no, I’m not even bored!”

--Duane Vorhees