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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory  11/22/2014 9:17:03 PM
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'Protestant Catholic'

All ye that enter the church abandon all hope
You may want to marry but the rules says nope
However, you can have all the children you can grope
And you will get protection and cover from the pope
They make you take orders and wear a frock
Then they get all-uptight and go into shock
When in front of children you produce your cock
Then they hide you away in amongst the flock

They deny it; they really do it so neat
You do wrong and they put you in retreat
But the children you molest and even beat
Lose the will to live and end up on the street
It is a mystery to say the least
How some people turn into a beast?
The animal within them is soon released
All because they made them a priest

These people are supposed to be our rock
We all know that is just a crock
When the devil within is unlocked
Another child’s life goes into hock
Next time you go to mass
Ask them where they get the brass
To stand and spout such crass
That makes their religion look an ass

Hey pope, you, I don’t want to worry
If you don’t want your religion to end up in the slurry
Do something now, and in a hurry
You have to let your priest’s marry
Michael Micmac Mccrory



'Something old, something new'


I sat in the cool night air on my balcony
When the sound of voices came a fluttering up to me
I wish one had said, I did that when I was younger
Do it now, you can afford to, you won’t die of hunger

However, alas, I am too old to do it now
What? Too old, at fifty, you are only just alive
If I had the chance to do it, I would, but
I am too old, at three score years and five

I’ll tell you what, let’s do it together
Let’s dance a swift fandango
Forget our ages we’ll go ahead
Then we will dance the tango

They found they could do something new
The tango led to other dances
Just shows you what you can do
If only you take the chances

Michael Micmac Mccrory



The Empty Page

Here I sit and stare
At the empty page
Because it’s empty
I am in a rage

Here I sit and stare
Trying to empty my mind
To find the words
To write poetry of some kind

Here I sit and rage
I need more booze
Still looking at an empty page
Searching for a muse

The muse had always been there
The thing that made me rage
At it I did stare
My muse was the empty page
Michael Micmac Mccrory



' The Unpublished Poets '

They were only half way to heaven
Stranded on a cloud
They were shouting and yelling
But they couldn’t have been loud
They were howling at the moon
Too softly to be heard
They could shout until doomsday noon
They’ll find out nobody cared

Not rude not bad not rotten
But they still had to go
They were the forgotten
Nobody wanted to know
They were not good enough to save
Nor bad enough to be lost
They just don’t know how to behave
So their left out in the frost

They were only half way to heaven
Stranded on a cloud
The unwanted poets
Shouting and yelling their poetry
To people who didn’t want to know
This is what unpublished poets have to do
Walk about with their heads in the clouds
Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory