Here's another poem that was performed at the last Raving Poets series that I'm finally getting around to posting. I think this one is more in my loveable scumbag mode of writing. It's called "Affront." Enjoy.
It had to be said.
It had to be whispered
how much I wanted to fuck you
while we sat in church
at your nephew’s christening
because I didn’t want to disturb
the rest of your family
with the sudden rush of blood to the wrong head.
You looked at me
like I was Lucifer himself,
whoever he is,
and angrily whispered back,
“You can’t talk like that in church.”
And to be honest
I got a bit mad too
because I saw it
as more of an affront to God
that he could read my thoughts
and know what I was thinking,
but he couldn’t hear me
speak honestly about what I was thinking
because that was just wrong somehow.
And to be honest,
what I was thinking
was a lot more graphic
than anything that I had just whispered
and God could see it all.
This church was his house.
My house where I always talk dirty to you
was his house.
My own skull was his house too.
I think he would prefer that I tone it down
and omit details like the misplaced banana,
the feather duster, confectioner’s sugar,
and the jar of honey.
As opposed to just
putting it out there.
I was doing him a favor in his house
with this minor bit of censorship.
But it had to be said.
It had to be whispered.