Ryan Wistrom Poetry

a host of statues live in that home
the madonna, outside, like a garden gnome
it's strange, it's here, these figures reside
for the devil herself lurks around inside (that's u)
　
to me, the one that perplexes the most
is the father, son, and holy ghost
the holy trinity in a porcelain dude
but where he stands, could be seen as rude
　
oh my 3 inch jesus, where could he be
a tiny statue in my bathroom you see
a little off putting, him watching me poo
does that seem a bit unholy to you?
　
why the hell is he in the can
supposedly more innocent and holy than man
cause our lord and savior has a fetish
and it makes my face a tiny bit reddish
　
He'll be sorry though, for I've had beans
and only God knows what that means
an aroma that was born in hell
he'll die, not for sins, but from the smell
　
but seriously, I love that little man
so i'll be a christian and turn on the fan
And a second "cumming" I'll give to him
by sculpting a tiny mary magdelin

Poet: ryan wistrom