The Conclave, By Vinnie Nauheimer

Received by email from the author, Vinnie Nauheimer.

Thank you, Vinnie.

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I think Vinnie’s poem captures the feelings of many about the cardinals and the church of which they are princes.


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Conclave Cardinals

Conclave Cardinals

The Conclave

By Vinnie Nauheimer

Old dinosaurs plodding through ancient doors;

Self-importance bouncing off marble floors;

Aging bones make it difficult to kneel;

No indications of missing a meal.

Museum pieces both living and dead;

Stackable dolls painted bright blood red.

Long in tooth; extremely short on truth,

When it comes to vile sins against youth.

Carnivores pretend to be herbivores

Bloody hands betray the biggest whores.

All want to be Tyrannosaurus Rex

Wearing the white hat with muscles to flex.

Sistine Chapel with its beautiful walls;

Contrasts markedly with old dried up balls.

Hypocrisy wearing bright scarlet red

Shameful color of the devil’s own bed

The secret conclave where they set their tones;

Their mausoleum filled with ancient bones.

When nothing changes, all becomes a farce;

Old men blowing smoke up each other’s arse!

The storm is gathering; angry, dark clouds.

Soon the dinosaurs will be wearing shrouds.

Remnants of a once proud church on display.

Dinosaur bones for which tourists will pay!

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