When drowses down, the chapel bell
And lingers on, the frankincense
Then dares to stray, a perv fidel
When need defies, purity’s pretense!

The moaning nuns, through frigid nights
Sigh out the psalm, of naïve lust
When semen seeks, a manhood’s rites
To burst out of, phallus august!

“Aah! Virgin lads, with chaste rectums
To bed them, is a bliss divine!”
How faith succumbs, in sin’s sanctums
To the laws of lust, in man’s bloodline!

And the Pope consoles, the shattered souls
With a pompous prayer, and a crass chagrin
While bleeding martyrs, pay faith’s tolls
He beatifies, The Saints Of Sin!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra