En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Priest They Called Him

fight tuberculosis, folks. christmas eve, an old
Junkie selling christmas seals on north park street.
The priest, they called him. fight tuberculosis, folks.
People hurried by, gray shadows on a distant wall.
It was getting late and no money to score.
He turned into a side street and the lake wind hit him like a knife.
Cab stop just ahead under a streetlight.
Boy got out with a suitcase. thin kid in prep school clothes,
Familiar face, the priest told himself, watching from the doorway.
remindsme of something a long time ago. the boy, there, with his overcoat
Unbuttoned, reaching into his pants pocket for the cab fare.
The cab drove away and turned the corner. the boy went inside
A building. hmm, yes, maybe - the suitcase was there in the doorway.
The boy nowhere in sight. gone to get the keys, most likely,
Have to move fast. he picked up the suitcase and started for the corner.
Made it. glanced down at the case. it didnt look like the case the boy had,
Or any boy would have. the priest couldnt put his finger on what was so
Old about the case. old and dirty, poor quality leather, and heavy.
Better see whats inside. he turned into lincoln park, found an
Empty place and opened the case. two severed human legs that belonged to
A young man with dark skin. shiny black leg hairs glittered in the
Dim streetlight. the legs had been forced into the case and he had to use
His knee on the back of the case to shove them out. legs, yet,
He said, and walked quickly away with the case.
Might bring a few dollars to score. the buyer sniffed suspiciously.
kind of a funny smell about it. its just mexican leather.
well, some joker didnt cure it.
The buyer looked at the case with cold disfavor.
not even right sure he killed it, whatever it is.
Three is the best I can do and it hurts. but since this is christmas
And youre the priest... he slipped three bills under the table into the
Priests dirty hand. the priest faded into the street shadows, seedy
And furtive. three cents didnt buy a bag, nothing less than a nickel.
Say, remember that old addie croaker told me not to come back unless
I paid him the three cents I owe him. yeah, isnt that a fruit for ya,
Blow your stack about three lousy cents.
The doctor was not pleased to see him.
now, what do you want? I told you!
The priest laid three bills on the table. the doctor put the
Money in his pocket and started to scream.
Ive had troubles! people have been around!
I may lose my license! the priest just sat there, eyes, old and heavy with
Years of junk, on the doctors face.
i cant write you a prescription. the doctor jerked open a drawer
And slid an ampule across the table. thats all I have in the office!
The doctor stood up. take it and get out! he screamed, hysterical.
The priests expression did not change.
The doctor added in quieter tones, after all, Im a professional man,
And I shouldnt be bothered by people like you.
is that all you have for me? one lousy quarter g? couldnt you lend
Me a nickel...? get out, get out, Ill call the police I tell you.
all right, doctor, Im going. of course it was cold and far to walk,
Rooming house, a shabby street, room on the top floor.
these stairs, coughed the priest there, pulling himself up along the
Bannister. he went into the bathroom, yellow wall panels,
Toilet dripping, and got his works from under the washbasin.
Wrapped in brown paper, back to his room, get every drop in the dropper.
He rolled up his sleeve. then he heard a groan from next door,
Room eighteen. the mexican kid lived there, the priest had passed him on
The stairs and saw the kid was hooked, but he never spoke, because he
Didnt want any juvenile connections, bad news in any language.
The priest had had enough bad news in his life.
He heard the groan again, a groan he could feel, no mistaking that groan
And what it meant. maybe he had an accident or something.
In any case, I cant enjoy my priestly medications with that sound coming
Through the wall. thin walls you understand. the priest put down his
Dropper, cold hall, and knocked on the door of room eighteen.
quien es? its the preist, kid, I live next door.
He could hear someone hobbling across the floor.
A bolt slid. the boy stood there in his underwear shorts, eyes black with
Pain. he started to fall. the priest helped him over to the bed.
whats wrong, son? its my legs, senor, cramps, and now I am without
Medicine. the priest could see the cramps, like knots of wood there
In the young legs, dark shiny black leg hairs.
a few years ago I damaged myself in a bicycle race,
It was then that the cramps started. and now he has the leg cramps back
With compound junk interest. the old priest stood there, feeling the boy
Groan. he inclined his head as if in prayer, went back and got his dropper.
its just a quarter g, kid. i do not require much, senor.
The boy was sleeping when the priest left room eighteen.
He went back to his room and sat down on the bed.
Then it hit him like heavy silent snow. all the gray junk yesterdays.
He sat there received the immaculate fix. and since he was himself a priest,
There was no need to call one.

song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life of a Roman Catholic Priest

A priest is nearest Christ;
A priest is Christ at times;
A priest is almost Christ;
A priest is most divine.

A priest is God’s shepherd;
A priest must tend to flock;
A priest must be like ‘rock’;
A priest should ne’er defrock.

A priest communes with God;
A priest draws hope from Lord;
A priest shows love of Christ;
A priest carries His Cross!

A priest is tempted too;
A priest has falls in life;
A priest falters also;
A priest has strength from Christ.

A priestly job is tough;
A priest’s life can turn rough;
A priest has strife enough,
But has to smile and laugh!

A priest helps harvest souls;
A priest has many roles;
A priest has but one goal –
To drink from Christ’s own bowl!

Pray that more priests should come;
May priests curb their freedom;
May priest usher Kingdom;
A life for Christ’s welcome.

Fondly dedicated to Rev. Fr. Xavier Claudius,
Beloved Parish priest, ‘Holy Family Church, Perundurai

Copyright by Dr John Celes 25-7-2010

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I trained to be a priest - started to. I went to seminary school when I was 11. I wanted to be a priest, but when they told me I could never have sex, not even on my birthday, I changed my mind.

quote by Johnny Vegas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I guess now that I think back, I used to play priest and be a funny priest. I don't know, I grew up in such a Catholic family that I kind of liked to test the boundaries a little bit and I think I had fun watching my mom laugh.

quote by Jenny McCarthy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Sliver Of Silver

A sliver of silver laying on the dunes of the beach
All of them gathered around it, the horsemen, the doctor and priest
When it's midnight glow sparkled into the air, a commotion began
The greed in their eyes as large as can be, they all crafted their own little plan

'LORD give me strength' the Priest would say everyday
He was a good fundamentalist persecuting the nonbelievers all day
He wanted the riches the silver provided
All to himself, completely undivided

The horsemen, on the other hand, was defiantly overeager
He wanted most of the silver, his quantity to equal meager
But the doctor was crafty and gave him bad meds
And the Priest condemned him while lying on his death bed

The doctor stabbed the priest, but had a good attorney
He convinced everyone he was innocent, even Uncle Ernie
He ran through the streets looking for all the riches
But he ran so fast he began to loose his britches

None of the men ended up with the sliver of silver

The morale of this story is not to chase power
If so, what you'll find is all your wine will turn sour
Chase after your dreams and let your hearts decide
How you will change the whole world wide

poem by Jonathan Ross
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ballad Of Frankie Lee And Judas Priest

by Bob Dylan
Well, Frankie Lee and Judas Priest,
They were the best of friends.
So when Frankie Lee needed money one day,
Judas quickly pulled out a roll of tens
And placed them on a footstool
Just above the plotted plain,
Sayin', "Take your pick, Frankie Boy,
My loss will be your gain."
Well, Frankie Lee, he sat right down
And put his fingers to his chin,
But with the cold eyes of Judas on him,
His head began to spin.
"Would ya please not stare at me like that," he said,
"It's just my foolish pride,
But sometimes a man must be alone
And this is no place to hide."
Well, Judas, he just winked and said,
"All right, I'll leave you here,
But you'd better hurry up and choose
Which of those bills you want,
Before they all disappear."
"I'm gonna start my pickin' right now,
Just tell me where you'll be."
Judas pointed down the road
And said, "Eternity!"
"Eternity?" said Frankie Lee,
With a voice as cold as ice.
"That's right," said Judas Priest, "Eternity,
Though you might call it 'Paradise.'"
"I don't call it anything,"
Said Frankie Lee with a smile.
"All right," said Judas Priest,
"I'll see you after a while."
Well, Frankie Lee, he sat back down,
Feelin' low and mean,
When just then a passing stranger
Burst upon the scene,
Saying, "Are you Frankie Lee, the gambler,
Whose father is deceased?
Well, if you are,
There's a fellow callin' you down the road
And they say his name is Priest."
"Oh, yes, he is my friend,"
Said Frankie Lee in fright,
"I do recall him very well,
In fact, he just left my sight."
"Yes, that's the one," said the stranger,
As quiet as a mouse,
"Well, my message is, he's down the road,
Stranded in a house."
Well, Frankie Lee, he panicked,
He dropped ev'rything and ran
Until he came up to the spot
Where Judas Priest did stand.
"What kind of house is this," he said,
"Where I have come to roam?"
"It's not a house," said Judas Priest,
"It's not a house . . . it's a home."
Well, Frankie Lee, he trembled,
He soon lost all control
Over ev'rything which he had made
While the mission bells did toll.
He just stood there staring
At that big house as bright as any sun,
With four and twenty windows
And a woman's face in ev'ry one.
Well, up the stairs ran Frankie Lee
With a soulful, bounding leap,
And, foaming at the mouth,
He began to make his midnight creep.
For sixteen nights and days he raved,
But on the seventeenth he burst
Into the arms of Judas Priest,
Which is where he died of thirst.
No one tried to say a thing
When they took him out in jest,
Except, of course, the little neighbor boy
Who carried him to rest.
And he just walked along, alone,
With his guilt so well concealed,
And muttered underneath his breath,
"Nothing is revealed."
Well, the moral of the story,
The moral of this song,
Is simply that one should never be
Where one does not belong.
So when you see your neighbor carryin' somethin',
Help him with his load,
And don't go mistaking Paradise
For that home across the road.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It was about working with other musicians, but more than that it's about exploring musical areas that you could never do with the band you're in, in my case Judas Priest. You could tackle musical areas and lyrical areas that wouldn't be appropriate for Priest.

quote by Glenn Tipton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Celebates

They must not wed the Doctor said,
For they were far from strong,
And children of their marriage bed
Might not live overlong.
And yet each eve I saw them pass
With rapt and eager air,
As fit a seeming lad and lass
As ought to pair.

For twenty years I went away
And scoured the China Sea,
Then homing came and found that they
Were still sweet company.
The Doctor and the Priest had banned
Three times their wedding ties,
Yet they were walking hand in hand,
Love in their eyes.

And then I went away again
For years another score,
And sailored all the Spanish Main
Ere I returned once more;
And now I see them pass my gate,
So slow and stooped and grey,
And when I asked them: "Why not mate?"
"We do," they say.

"No priest and village bells we need,
No Doctor to approve;
The Lord has wedded us indeed
With everlasting love.
How wonderful to understand
The working of His will!
Lo! We are walking hand in hand,
And sweethearts still."

poem by Robert William Service
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The Ballad Of Frankie Lee & Judas Priest

Well, frankie lee and judas priest,
They were the best of friends.
So when frankie lee needed money one day,
Judas quickly pulled out a roll of tens
And placed them on a footstool
Just above the plotted plain,
Sayin, take your pick, frankie boy,
My loss will be your gain.
Well, frankie lee, he sat right down
And put his fingers to his chin,
But with the cold eyes of judas on him,
His head began to spin.
Would ya please not stare at me like that, he said,
Its just my foolish pride,
But sometimes a man must be alone
And this is no place to hide.
Well, judas, he just winked and said,
All right, Ill leave you here,
But youd better hurry up and choose
Which of those bills you want,
Before they all disappear.
Im gonna start my pickin right now,
Just tell me where youll be.
Judas pointed down the road
And said, eternity!
Eternity? said frankie lee,
With a voice as cold as ice.
Thats right, said judas priest, eternity,
Though you might call it paradise.
I dont call it anything,
Said frankie lee with a smile.
All right, said judas priest,
Ill see you after a while.
Well, frankie lee, he sat back down,
Feelin low and mean,
When just then a passing stranger
Burst upon the scene,
Saying, are you frankie lee, the gambler,
Whose father is deceased?
Well, if you are,
Theres a fellow callin you down the road
And they say his name is priest.
Oh, yes, he is my friend,
Said frankie lee in fright,
I do recall him very well,
In fact, he just left my sight.
Yes, thats the one, said the stranger,
As quiet as a mouse,
Well, my message is, hes down the road,
Stranded in a house.
Well, frankie lee, he panicked,
He dropped evrything and ran
Until he came up to the spot
Where judas priest did stand.
What kind of house is this, he said,
Where I have come to roam?
Its not a house, said judas priest,
Its not a house . . . its a home.
Well, frankie lee, he trembled,
He soon lost all control
Over evrything which he had made
While the mission bells did toll.
He just stood there staring
At that big house as bright as any sun,
With four and twenty windows
And a womans face in evry one.
Well, up the stairs ran frankie lee
With a soulful, bounding leap,
And, foaming at the mouth,
He began to make his midnight creep.
For sixteen nights and days he raved,
But on the seventeenth he burst
Into the arms of judas priest,
Which is where he died of thirst.
No one tried to say a thing
When they took him out in jest,
Except, of course, the little neighbor boy
Who carried him to rest.
And he just walked along, alone,
With his guilt so well concealed,
And muttered underneath his breath,
Nothing is revealed.
Well, the moral of the story,
The moral of this song,
Is simply that one should never be
Where one does not belong.
So when you see your neighbor carryin somethin,
Help him with his load,
And dont go mistaking paradise
For that home across the road.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Girl Named Fred

Once upon a time not many years ago
a girl named Fred fell in love with a boy named Fran.
Although the names seemed an odd combination
and could easily be confused by people who did not know
that Fred was a girl and Fran was a boy.
They made the perfect couple as everyone agreed
and when their wedding day arrived,
the priest who was standing in
did not know about the names
only that he was marrying a Fred to a Fran.
Turning to Fran he said,
Fred with you take this woman
to be your lawful wedded wife.
Excuse me Father, but I think that should be husband.
The priest looked up a bit dismayed, but just carried on.
Turning to Fred said Fran will you take this man
to be your lawful wedded husband.
Excuse me Father, but I think that should wife.
The priest’ eyes rolled around in his head
very dazed and confused.
The silent sniggers in the congregation began to grow louder
as peels of laughter not bells rang out within the church.
The poor priest was now in utter disarray
and after blessing the rings;
he handed them back the wrong way about.
Then the poor priest red faced said
to whomever I pronounce you man and wife.
Just to make things more riotous
someone switched the Wedding March
to Rock Around The Clock,
which sent the bride and groom bopping down the isle,
and the poor priest he had a nervous breakdown
saying he would never perform
a wedding ceremony again.
He would stick to funerals
as there was only one body involved
and they wouldn’t talk back to him.

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song X

Hey ho here we go, were on the road to never
Where lifes a joy for girls and boys and only will get better.
Hey ho here we go along the road to never.
Romeo and juliet, the doctor and his case
Without a plan they left the van and there were laid to waste.
Hey ho away we go along the road to never.
The priest was there with sandy hair, religion by his side
He saw his law was broken, the punishment was applied
Hey ho away we go along the road to never,
Hey ho away we go were on the road to never.
He held her hand and wished her well although his heart was aching,
The camera rolled, the print was bold, the holy war was breaking.
Its hey ho here we go were the road to never,
Where lifes a joy for girls and boys and only will get better.
[hey ho away we go along the road to never,
Hey ho away we go were on the road to never.]repeat
The priest was there with sandy hair, religion by his side
He saw his law was broken, the punishment was applied

song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Queen And Priest

When the nights come on
darkness breaks through
say, baby, what you're gonna' do.
Priest of the light
moving away
nothing at all can make him stay
Queen of the dark
is leaving her cage
she's on the way to turn the page
Sleeves all in black
red lips, real hot
she always gets what she wants.
No release for queen and priest,
no guilt no sacrifice
never ending black and white good old days and nights.
The hunter in space
hunting the days
no chance to win whatever way
A sight of relief
and with the morning rain
the day will give you shelter once again
Priest of the light
is ready to start
against the dark the same old fight
Call it the sun
lets call it the moon
the same old game we forgot to soon.

song performed by by Zed Yago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf IX. -- Thangbrand The Priest

Short of stature, large of limb,
Burly face and russet beard,
All the women stared at him,
When in Iceland he appeared.
'Look!' they said,
With nodding head,
'There goes Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.'

All the prayers he knew by rote,
He could preach like Chrysostome,
From the Fathers he could quote,
He had even been at Rome,
A learned clerk,
A man of mark,
Was this Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

He was quarrelsome and loud,
And impatient of control,
Boisterous in the market crowd,
Boisterous at the wassail-bowl,
Everywhere
Would drink and swear,
Swaggering Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest

In his house this malcontent
Could the King no longer bear,
So to Iceland he was sent
To convert the heathen there,
And away
One summer day
Sailed this Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

There in Iceland, o'er their books
Pored the people day and night,
But he did not like their looks,
Nor the songs they used to write.
'All this rhyme
Is waste of time!'
Grumbled Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

To the alehouse, where he sat
Came the Scalds and Saga-men;
Is it to be wondered at,
That they quarrelled now and then,
When o'er his beer
Began to leer
Drunken Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest?

All the folk in Altafiord
Boasted of their island grand;
Saying in a single word,
'Iceland is the finest land
That the sun
Doth shine upon!'
Loud laughed Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

And he answered: 'What's the use
Of this bragging up and down,
When three women and one goose
Make a market in your town!'
Every Scald
Satires drawled
On poor Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

Something worse they did than that;
And what vexed him most of all
Was a figure in shovel hat,
Drawn in charcoal on the wall;
With words that go
Sprawling below,
'This is Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.'

Hardly knowing what he did,
Then he smote them might and main,
Thorvald Veile and Veterlid
Lay there in the alehouse slain.
'To-day we are gold,
To-morrow mould!'
Muttered Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

Much in fear of axe and rope,
Back to Norway sailed he then.
'O King Olaf! little hope
Is there of these Iceland men!'
Meekly said,
With bending head,
Pious Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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From You Fall.

The two catholic priests sat
in the Breakfast Room
off the refectory
in the abbey.

They looked up
when you entered
then continued
their conversation
about Dante
and you poured
yourself a coffee
and a small bowl
of Cornflakes
with a little milk
and sugar.

You sat down
and sipped the coffee.

There were prints
of Michelangelo
on the walls
and a crucifix above
and between
the two doors
that led to the
refectory
where the monks ate
three times a day.

The priests conversed
but said nothing to you.

Their words were uttered
in posh well bred voices.

One said
Few believe in Hell these days
and even fewer in Paradise
and those that do
have vague ideas
gathered from odd books
you find on airport
bookshop shelves.

You listened half heartedly
as they talked.

You wanted to ask
about the place.

Wanted one of them
to hear confession.

Maybe one
to give absolution
and perhaps offer a solution.

You could hear
the footsteps of monks
in the other room
getting their breakfast
of bread and jam
and black French coffee.

One priest laughed.

You never heard the joke.

The other guffawed loudly
in a girlish voice.

And the woman was seen
leaving by the back door
semi dressed and in great distress
the priest continued
And Father Denton
was never the same.

Then they were silent
and stood and smiled
and went their way.

You sat alone in the room.

The Michelangelo prints
reflected the single bulb
hanging above the table.

The Crucified seemed
above it all.

You would find some other
to hear confession.

To give absolution
from your fall.

poem by Terry Collett
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Bad Case Of Loving You

(john moon martin)
Whooaaaaa
The hot summer night fell like a net
I've got to find my baby yet
I need you to soothe my head
Turn my blue heart to red
Doctor, doctor, give me the news
I've got a bad case of lovin' you
No pill's gonna cure my ill
I've got a bad case of lovin' you
A pretty face don't make no pretty heart
I learned that, buddy, from the start
You think i'm cute, a little bit shy
Momma, i ain't that kind of guy
Doctor, doctor, give me the news
I got a bad case of lovin' you
No pill's gonna cure my ill
I got a bad case of lovin' you
Whooaaa
I know you like it, you like it on top
Tell me, momma, are you gonna stop?
You had me down, 21 to zip
Smile of judas on your lip
Shake my fist, knock on wood
I've got it bad, and i've got it good
Doctor, doctor, gimme the news
I got a bad case of lovin' you
No pill's gonna cure my ill
I got a bad case of lovin' you

song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thangbrand the Priest

Short of stature, large of limb,
Burly face and russet beard,
All the women stared at him,
When in Iceland he appeared.
"Look!" they said,
With nodding head,
"There goes Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest."

All the prayers he knew by rote,
He could preach like Chrysostome,
From the Fathers he could quote,
He had even been at Rome.
A learned clerk,
A man of mark,
Was this Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

He was quarrelsome and loud,
And impatient of control,
Boisterous in the market crowd,
Boisterous at the wassail-bowl,
Everywhere
Would drink and swear,
Swaggering Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

In his house this malcontent
Could the King no longer bear,
So to Iceland he was sent
To convert the heathen there,
And away
One summer day
Sailed this Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

There in Iceland, o'er their books
Pored the people day and night,
But he did not like their looks,
Nor the songs they used to write.
All this rhyme
Is waste of time! "
Grumbled Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

To the alehouse, where he sat,
Came the Scalds and Saga men;
Is it to be wondered at,
That they quarrelled now and then,
When o'er his beer
Began to leer
Drunken Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest?

All the folk in Altafiord
Boasted of their island grand;
Saying in a single word,
"Iceland is the finest land
That the sun
Doth shine upon!"
Loud laughed Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

And he answered: "What's the use
Of this bragging up and down,
When three women and one goose
Make a market in your town! "
Every Scald
Satires scrawled
On poor Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

Something worse they did than that!
And what vexed him most of all
Was a figure in shovel hat,
Drawn in charcoal on the wall;
With words that go
Sprawling below,
"This is Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest."

Hardly knowing what he did,
Then he smote them might and main,
Thorvald Veile and Veterlid
Lay there in the alehouse slain.
"To-day we are gold,
To-morrow mould!"
Muttered Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest

Much in fear of axe and rope,
Back to Norway sailed he then.
"O, King Olaf! little hope
Is there of these Iceland men!"
Meekly said,
With bending head,
Pious Thangbrand, Olaf's Priest.

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The task of a priest, in some respects, may be different today, but the principles upon which Herbert built his life as a priest are of universal application.

quote by Arthur Middleton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Disturbing The Priest

Lets try getting to the sky, hang on or youre going to die
Sour life can turn sweet, its laying at your feet
Sweet child with an innocent smile watches closely all the while
Dont be fooled when he cries, keep looking at the eyes
Good life is contradiction because of the crucifixion
If youre ready and have the need, I will take your soul and plant my seed
You just gotta listen to the night at the ending of the day
You just gotta listen to the night as safety slips away
Moving out of sight are the things you need to see to feel
And as they slip away becoming so unreal unreal
You just gotta listen to the night as youre going up the stairs
You just gotta listen to the night and dont forget to say your prayers
And as you lose control to the eyes in dark disguise
And icy fingers send electric lies
Were disturbing the priest, wont you please come to our feast
Do we mind disturbing the priest, not at all, not at all, not in the least
Ahhhh, do we mind disturbing the priest
Aahhhh, not at all, not at all, not in the least
The force of the devil is the darkness the priest has to face
The force of the night will destroy him but will not disgrace
To get into his mind and to his soul you gotta set alight
The flames of doubt so deep inside inside
The devil and the priest cant exist if one goes away
Its just like the battle of the sun and the moon and night and day
The force of the devil, thats were all told to fear
Watch out for religion when he gets too near too near
Were disturbing the priest, wont you please come to our feast
Do we mind disturbing the priest, not at all, not at all, not in the least
Good life is contradiction because of the crucifixion
If youre ready and have the need, I will take your soul and plant my seed
Aahhhh, ahhhh, ah ha ha ha haaa!
Lets try getting to the sky, hang on or youre going to die
Sour life can turn sweet, its laying at your feet
Sweet child with an innocent smile watches closely all the while
Dont be fooled when he cries, keep looking at the eyes
Oh, disturbing the priest!

song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Confessional Box...

there is this boy
who looks like me when i was once a boy like him

who as taught by the priests
of the catholic schools have to be on a regular confession
inside that box where the priests
listens....

(Father i have sinned, i have not gone to confession
for a week and these are my sins...repeat, repeat, repeat,
and the priest, perhaps tired and
bored says...

my little son, say three hail marys, five our fathers, and 2 glory bes
and if you have time

write a poem) .

and so the poems since then were written.
the boy did not stop to live within that confessional box
the priest died
earlier than expected.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I have to say that I have no regrets about my decision to become a priest or about the major directions my ministry has taken me... I have been and am happy as a priest, and I have never been lonely... I could have used a bit more solitude.

quote by Andrew Greeley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hard Up Case

You told me once I was your pride and joy
I guess those days are dead and gone
You must have took me for some golden boy
You didnt know what you were taking on
It was a hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
Now all the angles have been played in threes
There isnt much that I can say
I know you gave your little heart to me
I guess I threw the thing away
It was a hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
Sometimes the truth is kind of hard to find
But dont you worry I can read your mind
And you dont have to tell me to my face
You put some other joker in my place
They dealt us houses full with the queens and kings
And now theyre calling out our bluff
cause you and me girl we had everything
But it just wasnt quite enough
Now thats a hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
You say the truth is gonna set me free
Like you might throw a dog a bone
I know youre thinking that the jokes on me
Just take a look at what you re dragging home --
Another hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case

song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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