Sistine Chapel

In my last visit to the Sistine Chapel,
The one with Adam munching on an apple,
I spent some time carefully checking the details,
Even scratching the old paint with my finger nails,
To see what lies beneath the known masterpiece,
Under the layers of centuries of dust and grease,
After digging not long but very efficient did I,
Not too deep under a layer visible to my eye,
I saw the original lines of paint by the artist hand,
The same one that made Moses in the holy land,
What I saw was Adam requesting the angel,
To “Be a pal my friend and pull on my handle”,
I am gassy and constipated, and am going nuts,
Be a “mentsch” let me empty my pressuring guts,
Of course – history chose to hide this story,
We see Adam stretching his arm to God’s glory,
The truth unfortunately “was covered” with paint,
However, even under the leaf we can see –
Adam he ain’t no saint,

Technological Theology

To make it easy on those that daily pray,
I have devised a system to ease the way,
Instead of repetitive so and so amen and amen,
I suggest automation for all the wise men,
From now on, we shall have a clickable bible,
To ease up the system without being liable,
If you are here to pray and to generously bless,
Be so kind and on button “Yes” please press,
With a check mark, enter all your requests,
If you are catholic, you can even confess,
This will make for a more efficient system,
Back to sinning you can go – who is to condemn.
After all, we are in the age of technology,
Let us upgrade god and renovate theology,

The Red-Breasted Bird

Today the weather was nice and warmer,
I have no idea how much warmer it was I swear,
I walked very fast on a street with no name,
Red-breasted birds were singing spring to proclaim,
Silly birds it is too early for spring to show its face,
Tonight we expect a foot of snow in this place,
What can one expect from a red-breasted bird?
Sitting on the tree the world looks confused and blurred,
Yet I could understand the birds wishing spring,
It is not what you have but what you are wanting,
So I looked at the bird and I shouted out loud,
Keep singing for summer dear, winter is soon out,
The bird gave me a side smile with its beak,
This bird was good knew every little shtick,
Now I can relax, as spring is soon to be,
A red-breasted bird gave her word to me


I learned the languages of the birds,
So I can talk with them exchange a few words,
I learned Latin from Cicero in order to converse,
With the greatest philosophers in the universe,
I studied Greek from Socrates Homer and Plato,
Spend evenings in discussions with the older Cato,
Confucius gave me his teachings in Mandarin,
George Bernard Shaw taught me Gaelic in Erin,
Urdu was easy to learn Gandhi was very patient,
Goethe taught me German he was very efficient,
Communicating as you can see is important to me,
I have yet to meet someone that does not agree,
Yet with all these languages tongues and vocabularies,
It seems I am doing well mostly talking to canaries,
I am still looking for a jargon, a lingo or a local dialect,
One that some people I know will be able to select,
So that we may communicate on some basic plane,
It is difficult for a mime philosophy to explain,

Politics in the EU

Berlusconi keeps things interesting,
Three women exposed their right and left wing,
Now this is good politics alive and exciting,
Unlike the politics we get here, Europe is inviting,
Who cares Liberals, Tories, or maybe socialist?
They take off their bras – not raising a fist,
So much fire, so much maturity coming of age,
The important thing is the size of their cleavage,
Vive La France, Viva Italia, long live the EU,
I love your politics Europe what a view,


When we were kids many years ago,
We ate everything good bad and so-so,
We played with bows and arrows we shot darts,
We never covered or protected body parts,
We wore short sleeves rode a bike without a helmet,
Here and there, we got hurt on that you can bet,
But we had fun we pushed the envelope we tried,
We were always playing out and no one ever died,
Today you are in the car with a belt or a baby seat,
A helmet, long sleeves, knee pads, gel on teeth,
Covered with armour top to bottom side to side
We are overprotected this cannot be denied

The White and Greys

A visit to the cemetery on a winter day,
Snow coming down shades of white and grey,
Most headstones are almost completely covered,
Hidden until mid-spring to be rediscovered-
By the first warm rays of the reborn April sun,
The headstones slowly uncovered one by one,
The flowers raise their heads –
From under the melting snow,
Yellows reds and purple a rainbow of colors show,
A celebration of spring and rebirth indeed,
Between the stones, alive came sprouting a seed,
For life continues on it’s the nature of the beast,
We go on except the ones that have ceased,
Until our turn comes to join the whites and greys,
Under the stones till the end of days,