Confessions of a Liberal Puritan

The first four stanzas of "HarleyMan" can be found here.

And stanza 5 is here: ( Read more... )


Now, on to stanzas 6 and 7:

As the "Amens" tapered off, and the preacher left the mike,
A choir of blue-hued 'angels' started in.
Then I heard a little cough, and found my Lancelot-of-the-bike
Was motioning me to step outside the din.

Now the meeting tent was rocking to a hymn that sounded 'punk'
So I wasn't sad to take a little break.
And in search of something shocking, around the back we slunk
While HarleyMan asked me, "Is he a fake?"

HarleyMan, O HarleyMan, in leather cool and black.
HarleyMan, O HarleyMan, when do you hit the sack?

In answer to his quest for my professional critique
Of the bleached-blonde biker preacher we'd just heard,
I said, "He speaks with zest, and his theology's . . . unique:
A nice mix of the profound and the absurd."

"That's not a lot of help," HarleyMan replied, unfazed,
"But perhaps we'll find out more, now we're backstage."
Just then, I gave a yelp, as at a mirror we gazed
Where the preacher's background showed, but no visage.

HarleyMan, O HarleyMan, in leather cool and black.
HarleyMan, O HarleyMan, my jaw is going slack.

[more to come, soon]