Poem 634a12UH

The Seven sins of greed, lust, etc. all the way to sloth are

festering deep within;
tucked amidst the wrath and the infidelity

sits an erect nipple, a hairy crotch shot

and Adalai Stevenson's Soggy Spittoon.  

I seek help:

A trauma to the soul has occurred, a karmic calamity unforeseen.

Disruption of consciousness, rupture of the being, great disrepair to

the thinking unit. Repository of thought now includes down blouse,

thong showing, and James Brolin's dental records. Grief unending.

No one hears my call?

I'm building this ark...only room for two more, and here I am

with a crotch shot, a nipper, and Jerry Mahoney's Mint Bowl... help me out

old buddy.

I am staring into that abyss.  I know that my god waits for me, to

bring me into the kingdom of heaven.

Yay, my god is a vengeful god, and there's a two bag limit,

so I head there with massive cleavage,  some snogging, and a

lactating Dean Jones.  
I'm on my knees, o lord.

I'm back to worry and depression.  I have so little I wonder why I'm

alive.

Nothing reaches me; free will has gone. 
I face an inert, abortive

gulf. 
A sad state, yet on top of this, 
I'm burdened with the

ubiquitous up skirt, the perennial pokie, 
and Cab Calloway's metro pass. 
Such a sorry affair.

Though now God is speaking to me, gently and with love. 
I am ascending into

heaven as we speak. 
I carry on this final journey 
three nip slips, a

wet snog, 
and Steve Guttenberg's tongue scraper. 
Not so sure these are

the right items; 
request advice.

I'm in the Garden of Eden; things were fine until I came across a nip

slip, 
an oopsy see-thru, 
and Dan Quale's ...
I can't go on! I cannot … 
'ligament cream'!

It never ceases.

Thrown down into pits of blasted ovens;

Dante and Virgil are guffawing as I burn here.  In the fourth ring.

Along with rear entry, rear window, 
and Hitchcock's Herpes Cream.

Now, wandering in a psychotic thicket of demons, angry baby monkeys, the

howling rancid sins 
of mankind prancing to the beat of Satan. 
I am

alone, except for a beaver shot, an up-skirt, 
and Jim Nabor's letter opener. 
This is indeed hell.