— Posted in words

New Poem by Phil Wormuth – “Church-schooled”




Tension holds this place together

where, in morning, we gather

to hear the dead speak.


Bells toll in honor of all who pass

(but what of the rest?)

Pungent scents disorient;

stripped of our innocence

(the bequest of hypocrites.)


Marble mouths speak

holy bunk…

Our ears bleed,

tongues turn to mush

(for many, the truth’s too much.)


No mercy, only hard words –

(the future forever adulterated.)

The indoctrination is elementary

and ends with the death

of our youth.


Bells toll for all who pass,

but what’s to come

of the rest of us?


Note: This poem was prompted from memories of my friend recounting his mistreatment in Parochial School many years ago.