Monks Pray

Monks pray for sex with the nuns.

The world keeps turning.

The jukebox in the convent is a money maker.

It's in the basement room where teenagers are supervised.

There is incense in the air.

Praise God.  Praise God!   Down here we are Rolie Polie, drugs praying for sex.

Making memories out of innocence and dancing by ourselves, cure praying for sex.

Asking for forgiveness.

Can I pray for sex?

Can I dance in a black robe.

Sing high and low and sneak through the woods to the convent, treatment to the monastery.

Sneak through the woods and valleys to the Girl Scout Camp,

From the Boy Scout Camp.

Sing those prayers aloud and you'll be boiled in oil.

Sing Rolie Polie,  I'm praying silently for sex.

I hate it I love it.

What's gonnah happen when I die?


This entry was posted in Poems, Writing by Russell Scott Day. Bookmark the permalink.

About Russell Scott Day

I come from sailors and priests. My aim is to prevent apocalyptic riot, better known as nuclear war, when I was growing up. Creating a nation of airports will create the peace enough environment to prevent apocalyptic riot. I had a vision due to a period of boredom and bliss like the Aleph of Borges. That is the story I learned and was made up and happens.

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