WHERE DO YOU FIND YOUR RELIGION

There is a thought inside my tired head: if it could speak, it would decide if it was strong or weak. If it could only talk about things that would be said with every blink of an eye, it would start to undress itself and let the confessions begin, for god is not perfect. He has even sinned, so let him pray the rosary.

Let us learn to swim or at least doggie paddle
who is this man hanging from the cross
who soul will be won, and whose soul will be lost

There are many colorful thoughts inside my head
like who shall we morn the living or the dead what words should be said on our death bed

where do you find your religion when you think you're dying and, like a newborn, you are crying? Do you find it on every early Sunday mourning on your black and white television? What do you hear? What is your version of the con man standing and throwing up his arms with his holy charm?

Do you not notice that the church sign is sprayed, painted, hung up, crooked, and misspelled, yet it quotes all the best chapters of the good book?

Are we going to hell if we continue to stare at the big-breasted nuns and the heaven-sent angel sitting next to us in the pew? Where do we find our religion? I find mine inside of my head and heart