Bless Me Father

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Bless me father for I have sinned. My last good confession was about 11 Months ago. Here are my sins.

I have missed the celebration of Mass on all Sundays this year for no good reason. You see father, my bed holds me captive like a lover to her bosom on Sundays, and try as I may; I simply cannot muster the strength and grace to detangle myself from her grasp.

I have borne negative thoughts against my neighbour Atis, and on more than one occasion, I have wished her death. But in my defence father, that woman is so very annoying. You see, last Saturday, she let her coloured jeans drip on my white tops and now they are all ruined. And to make it worse, father, she did not even apologise.  I can’t even sleep in peace because of the ruckus when she hosts keshas at her house on Friday nights. All those loud prayers, speaking in tongues and singing…aaargh! Lord help me because one of these fine days I will beat the crap out of her. That devil of a woman! I so hate her

Father, I have defiled my body by consuming alcohol. I’m not exactly sure how that is a sin, but oh well, yes I have. Of late, I cannot resist the urge to down a whole bottle of Robertson’s (God bless that man) wine in a single sitting. That delicious wine flows down your throat so smoothly. I cannot explain the pleasure of its warmth as it gently moves from my gullet down to the belly.

How do I put this, Father? I have committed so much fornication. First it was with Angela. You see father, I don’t really know what came over the both of us that day. It must have been the wine.  It all begun with a touch here and there, and before we knew it, father, our desires had consumed us. Father I could describe how nice her touch felt on my breasts and the taste of her lips on mine. And it wasn’t just once father, so so many times…aah, I think Angela is a sex goddess sent to satisfy my carnal desires, father. She says she loves me father, and a part of me loves her too, but father, surely, I cannot be a lesbian, God would hate me, right ?

Then there’s Antony. I don’t even know where we are headed with him, father. All I know is that I like his penis, so very much. The Lord blessed that man with a mighty one, I daresay, and he knows how to use it well. The things he does to me…I lack the words to describe them. That man has my vagina conquered. Father, why is sex such a sin when it makes me feel so good, so alive?

That’s not all, Father. I have desired a servant dedicated to the lord and harboured lustful thoughts towards him. Every time I look at Father Martin, all I can think about is the feel of his hands on my body. And it doesn’t even stop during Mass father. You see the last time I came for mass, I did not listen to a word of the homily, I kept staring at his lips, yearning to kiss them.  Even during Transubstantiation, as he offered the Sacrament and Chalice and proclaimed them to be the body and blood of Christ, my mind went wild imagining those sexy fingers of his exploring my depths. Father, why did he have to be so handsome? What is wrong with me, Father?

Lastly, father, I encouraged Anita to have an abortion.  I even lent her some cash and drove her to the hospital to have it done. You see, she doesn’t even know who the father of that foetus was. She thinks someone took advantage of her at a party when she had passed out. She is a good girl, father, people make mistakes. I didn’t want this one mistake to define her and dull her brilliant record. Besides, her father wouldn’t pay her KSL school fees if he knew she was pregnant, and she doesn’t have a job yet. That baby would have suffered and she would have hated it anyway.

I think that’s about it, father.  Should I say the act of contrition now?

Dear God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you, because you are so good…..with the help of thy grace, I promise to sin no more…

 

 

Advertisements

8 thoughts on “Bless Me Father

Add yours

  1. Now, this is the kind of pop literature that should be littering our streets, vendors scrambling for nothing but this, works that would make David Maillu’s ‘After 4:30’ look like a joke taken too far. This, is awesome. You have talent, style, and well, the gusto.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: