God’s Bathroom Floor

 

This was the place we came to relief ourselves,

thinking we should crawl across

those white tiles we saw in our head,

where we could eliminated our life’s waste,

leaving after feeling purged of everything inside

that constipated the soul

and gave us sin’s indigestion.

 

Only there was never enough toilet paper

to actually wipe away the sense

about what clung to the bowels in our thoughts.

 

But it never kept the preacher

from getting out his plunger,

trying so skillfully with suggestion and intimidation,

while reading from the divine plumber’s sacred book,

which could solve our problems,

warning us in thunderbolt detail

how we might be cursed unless getting unclogged,

spending eternity in some horrible sewer

should we failed to follow those rules.

 

Oh we tried so hard to pretend

actually managing to avoid

some trip to the gutters

during the days

outside of that holy restroom.

 

Even tried mentioning at times,

when some urge overpowered us

into visiting places that contributed to our corrupt intestines,

where we totally surrendered to those foul desires,

it was completely offset by finding a prayer porta potty.

 

Such an inspiring and a wonderful game

acting like we didn’t need zippers outside

of when we came to that religious toilet stall.

 

Somewhere in all the lunacy

the Lord’s spirit helped us understand

He wasn’t as concerned with our self-righteous laxatives

as trusting in Him

for any real means of not being bloated by our indulgences.