Oh Lord in Heaven, I have sinned!
It is because your roads are plastered
with excrement. And YOU had pinned
your hopes on me but then the bastard,
called Devil, came to tempt my soul.
He practiced mental levitation,
insisted he was pure and whole
and standing tall as YOUR creation!
And now YOU scold me for this deed,
here, at the Gate. I'm not to pass?
Just trash I am, a lowly weed
I, as the spice of Hippocras?
I shall refuse to go to Hell,
you know I am Northern man
and in the heat I don't do well,
pray tell, we need a change of plan.
God who was in his favourite chair,
while angels brushed his wavy hair
sent one short message to the Gate :
A pass to hell, in triplicate.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-the/
