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A Bum's Mystery Religion

O, pew lover, you came into the House of the Lord,

You stumbled over me during prayer as if you were hungry,
Smelling like beer spilled in a basement of a monastery,

You ruined communion and left me feeling unrestored.

This is a mysterious religion, only a few can see.

How is it you found out where the few of us meet?
Was it the singing you heard, from the street?

Or is it God's message where He and I don't agree?
I feel I have a tractable map that leads to heaven.

Even though faith rose up to manage a life I did not foresee.
Beyond grace, there is little truth in sermons, with leaven,

But the mystery remains, and I cannot find the sacred key,

To unlock the door where you came in, smelly and unshaven.
Now I must toss you out, you are beginning to smell like pee.

Yorktown Disciple

Poemart 59 - Sonnet - A Bum's Mystery Religion - Yorktown Disciple
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