Here's a poem I wrote about piety and hypocrisy. I love to throw absurdist humor into my poems. I think they're better that way.
Take Care of your Soul—it’s Flapping in the Breeze
My next-door neighbor’s going to hell.
I know because his soul
has hung on his clothesline since 1982.
To me, it’s like a warning sign:
“Beware of Dog”
but slightly more dangerous because souls are involved.
If he ever does hang up a sign
it should probably say:
“Beware of Vicious Un-souled Man!”
I’m certain it would be better if others could recognize him
as the crafty and elusive man that he is, but
most people ignore his abandoned soul.
One of these days, though, I’ll shake it out, and wash it,
then leave it ironed, starched white, and folded on his porch,
just in case he’s forgotten about it.