deepundergroundpoetry.com
Sorry, God's busy, try again later.
A handful of Xanax
An empty pack of smokes
The fifth of whiskey's empty
Since I tried to drown my sorrows.
Unfortunately, my sorrows learned to swim.
Realistic dreams
With impossible standards
Serenaded by demons
While the angels remain silent
And God's too busy playing solitaire
To even pay attention.
An empty pack of smokes
The fifth of whiskey's empty
Since I tried to drown my sorrows.
Unfortunately, my sorrows learned to swim.
Realistic dreams
With impossible standards
Serenaded by demons
While the angels remain silent
And God's too busy playing solitaire
To even pay attention.
Published 28th Apr 2013
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28th Apr 2013 9:05am
28th Apr 2013 9:05am
28th Apr 2013 9:07am
28th Apr 2013 2:17pm
The same kind of theme is in a joke recorded message on the phone line to Heaven. Wish I could find it, if you have not heard of it. It was quoted in my parish magazine a few years ago. (I looked at this poem thinking it might be a version of the same theme.)
28th Apr 2013 5:00pm
If you find it, let me know, also what is the number to this heaven line? I'm going to assume it is a joke phone number?
28th Apr 2013 7:41pm
Could not remember if there was a number, just a choice of options like what so many phone systems use these days.
