The Methodist Mom

Sometimes, when I get on a roll, I can write a batch of poems in a few minutes.  Such was the case this week when I got started on the Methodists.  Here's another one that might offer equal doses of offense and laughter.  But I like it.











The Methodist Mom

If you were a kid
Who had a warped Id
With low self-esteem and aplomb,
The percentages are
You felt under-par
And were reared by a Methodist mom.

If you started out slowly
And felt ugly or homely
And when you were sick rubbed with balm,
Or you never saw sun
Or had any fun
You were reared by a Methodist mom.

If you've ever felt guilty
Or sexually silly
And your life was an intercom,
Or you sat down to read
Every time that you peed
You were reared by a Methodist mom.

If you felt you were watched
Every time that you botched
Or you sinned when you liked a sitcom,
You were probably warped
By the love and the warmth
You received from a Methodist mom.

And now in your prime
With your limited time
You probably still have a qualm
'Cause you don't feel so good
But you wish that you could
Being reared by a Methodist mom.