M is for Myrtle

Mother of the savior of mankind.
Yes, that makes me Jesus’ aunt,
Jesus’ favorite aunt, you'll find.
I was midwife at the manger,
In the swaddle, I put the swa,
Then with Magi had a menage a trois.
For those of you doing the mathmatics,
The dude who brought the Frankincense wasn't into chicks.
I knew John the Baptist when he was afraid of H2O.
I can even claim Jesus' first miracle, cause you know...
I’m the reason they ran out of wine at the wedding.
I was the original Auntie Mame.
When Jesus was missing from the Bible for those years,
He was traveling the world with me, learning to conquer his fears.
We went to India and Persia and Ethiopia and Tibet,
Feasting and dancing and drumming and shit.
Learning to reject dogma and embrace karma,
And say “Screw you” to the Sadducees,
“I’ll find the truth inside of me”,
Basically living life according to the Gospel of Myrtle.
I say the path to enlightenment is pleasure…
Just make the journey at your leisure,
And even if you never reach that higher plane,
You'll have enjoyed the trip just the same.
That teaching got me my own cult for a century or more,
My followers were Stevie Nicks groupie hard-core…
The Pharisees called them the Myrtle Maniacs.
They built me a temple inlaid with gold
And followed me all over the globe.
So, if I’m so fricking fabulous why have you never heard my name?
Baby, the story is always the same.
Because I wasn’t a virgin and I wasn’t a whore.
So, men didn't know just what to use me for.
See, I was somewhere between a chastity belt and crotchless panties.
I refused to be in the kitchen barefoot or in the bedroom bare-assed.
But I did ran bare-breasted down beaches from Conde' Nast.
I did not fit neatly into verse or book,
That is why no matter how hard you look,
You won't find me.
Those Bible-writing bastards left me out.
But I am back, and ready to shout.
Tonight, I am stepping into the spotlight to reclaim my rightful place…
I am Myrtle…protector of pleasure and procurer of good times,
Patron saint to gypsies, tramps, and thieves, and mimes,
To rock stars, surfers, poets, prophets,
Drag queens, dreamers, schemers,
And George Hamilton.
I am the voice that whispers, “Follow your bliss.”
I am disco and pink champagne and your first kiss,
Indeed, I am good weed.
I am butterflies and blue skies and a brand new pair of roller skates.
I am multiple orgasms.
I am the force that drives you to follow that dream.
If you're feeling me now, let out a scream.
I am Myrtle.

The Miracle of Myrtle: Saint Gone Wild is sweet tea with a big shot of bourbon and a juicy slice of the supernatural. Prepare for a party on every page.
Available here on Kindle or in Paperback .
Published on April 15, 2014 05:41
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