I hate you, but your vocal chords
Send waves of pleasure through the hoards
Of people eager to undress
And much to your 'humble' distress;
But flatter me and take me home-
For church should be a brief 'shalom'
And not a show of flinging rice,
Over the preachers: shooting dice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem