Uncensored Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Read my words,
The fruit of ignorance,
And you’ll have nothing left to do
But to return, uncensored,
To God’s original design—
Duck you head as you
Pass beneath the flaming
Sword,
Like in a line at Disney
World,
And inside disrobe in the
Beating lights; its okay,
Everyone here is an honorary
Virgin—
Just drape the handy foliage
Over your pistils and stamens
And stand still for the cartoonist
To draw you into an illustration for
A Child’s Bible—
Now come on. Here we go….
On our left if we’re lucky
You might catch glimpses through
The rose thickets of Rimbaud
Trying to force himself upon Baudelaire—
What could be better?
And further in,
Here is the Marque de Sade
Handing out party gifts
And precious hats, like papier-mâché
Sea-shells
To protect you from God’s eyes
Who shines the ever brighter here
Looking down through a hole
In the atmosphere, a voyeur
Way up high with his angelic entourage;
He has binoculars to spy on us.
He makes everything grow 10 ft. taller,
Now that we have returned to him
All of his original collection,
His eternal petting zoo.