prayer

[Mopkins]

I pray to my unknown editor
on the cosmic throne
to once again whip out the pen
before I start for home
 
and edit out profanities
unfit for tots to read
and blot out parking tickets
and those illicit weeds
 
restore me to my former form
for form for no longer fits
and censor things done at the pub and
with whom those things were did
 
remember all the golden stars
I got for being nice
and let me cash them in for stuff
at a wholesale price
 
let my pin number
unlock the pearly gates
and let me in ambrosia bar
to drink with all my mates
 
let me gawk at the dead poets and
their eloquentest muse
give me at least a scarecrows brain
don't let me stay confused
 
let me in the library
to read which rules to break
and correct my karmic debt
when  I make a mistake
 
be nice to my ma and pa
and my old uncle bob
give paddy a jug of mead
and let him be a slob
 
don't let all my ex boyfriends
move in up the street
let there be fast food next door
so I'll have stuff to eat
 
let me have fast internet
a decent pc too
and let there not be too much stuff
like cleaning up to do
 
don't want lots of concubines
or feasts or streets of gold
don't want a fancy mansion
to retire in when I'm old
 
don't want an attic full of stuff
 I gave away before
and let me have nice big boobs
and do not let me snore
 
don't want the fingernails or hair
that I got clipped off back
and poke me with a pointy stick
when I get off the track
 
give me a cute angel
who whispers in my ear
and give him lots of decent lines
don't be him be a queer
 
smooth out the mound of debt
pay off my funeral plan
let the kids inherit
both the baked beans and the can
 
let my mates pay the bar tab
at the wake before they go
I leave the old man to the dog
she was his favourite ho
 
tell the tarot reader
I expect my money back
once I get back down the stalk
I clambered up with Jack
 
let me flog the golden dove
that lays expensive eggs
and once again, nice big boobs
and also slender legs
 
don't incinerate me
with your bright white light
and let me get away with stuff
we've always got on alright
 
don't let me get cigarette burns
on my heavenly robe
let me design my own split level
recycled wood adobe
 
let me have a haybarn
big enough for a hoe-down
and let the blessings rain from high
when I start to frown
 
let me be photographed with
the apostles and the saints
but don't give them my record
unless there's white-out paint
 
let me not need to pee
forever after more
and let me skip Sunday Mass
if the priest's a bore
 
don't put me into purgatory
to roll boulders uphill
let me achieve nirvana
without illicit pills
 
ask someone to feed the cat
clean the canary cage
sell my old unlicensed  car
plant bulbs upon my grave
 
don't weep for me when I'm gone
I'm probably having fun
tearing up and down the golden streets
giving God a run

[CRNDLSM]

Hard to critique something called prayer. I like the humor, think 26 blocks is too many, unless it's one for every year of your life or something. It really feels aimless overall, not sure if it qualifies as a prayer at the end, who are you if God is third person... not that you say 'you' but all the requests seem to address a second person

[Mopkins]

aprreciate advice -admirable etc thanks for the time taken

(staggers out of toilet booth - hic)

doubled up the dunny paper so it doen't drag on the tiles



An Earnest Prayer


I pray to my unknown editor on the cosmic throne

to once again whip out the pen before I start for home


and edit out profanities unfit for tots to read

and blot out parking tickets and those illicit weeds


restore me to my former form for form no longer fits

and censor things done at the pub and with whom those things were did


remember all the golden stars I got for being nice

and let me cash them in for stuff at a wholesale price


let my pin number unlock the pearly gates

and let me in ambrosia bar to drink with all my mates


let me gawk at the dead poets and  their eloquentest muse

give me at least a scarecrow's brain don't let me stay confused


let me in the library to read which rules to break

and correct my karmic debt when I make a mistake


be nice to my ma and pa and my old uncle bob

give paddy a jug of mead and let him be a slob


don't let all my ex-boyfriends move in up the street

let there be fast food next door so I'll have stuff to eat


let me have fast internet a decent pc too

and let there not be too much stuff like cleaning up to do


don't want lots of concubines or feasts or streets of gold

don't want a fancy mansion to retire in when I'm old


don't want an attic full of stuff  I gave away before

and let me have nice big boobs and do not let me snore


don't want the fingernails or hair that I got clipped off back

and poke me with a pointy stick when I get off the track


give me a cute angel who whispers in my ear

and give him lots of decent lines don't let  him be a queer


smooth out the mound of debt pay off my funeral plan

let the kids inherit both the baked beans and the can


let my mates pay the bar tab at the wake before they go

I leave the old man to the dog she was his favourite ho


tell the tarot reader I expect my money back

once I get back down the stalk I clambered up with jack


let me flog the golden dove that lays expensive eggs

and once again, nice big boobs and also slender legs


don't incinerate me with your bright white light

and let me get away with stuff we've always got on alright


don't let me get cigarette burns on my heavenly robe

let me design my own split level recycled wood adobe


let me have a hay-barn big enough for a hoe-down

and let the blessings rain from high when I start to frown


let me be photographed with the apostles and the saints

but don't give them my record unless there's white-out paint


let me not need to pee forever after more

and let me skip sunday mass if the priest's a bore


don't put me into purgatory to roll boulders uphill

let me achieve nirvana without illicit pills


ask someone to feed the cat clean the canary cage

sell my old unlicensed car plant bulbs upon my grave


don't weep for me when I'm gone I'm probably having fun

tearing up and down the golden streets giving God a run





ok almost absolutely over editing again