God Poems

substance abuse

2011-08-21T23:33:00.002-04:00

religion is a drug and the majority of the world is addicted.

a planet full of junkies. every one of them terrified of reality.

that they aren't special. they don't matter. and they will die.

and no one's listening.

Revelations

2011-05-23T02:03:00.003-04:00

people are an epidemic. a mutagenic virus destroying everything in its path.

people have two choices. become herbivores or have less people.

I'm in favor of less people. there are far too many of us. you can start with eliminating me. I don't mind.

but that fact is we are a pathogen. a virulent disease that has infected the globe. there are too many of us. and we continue to spread. at an alarming rate. devouring everything in our path.

history waits lifetimes for moments like this. hundred year or more moments when fate is decided. adapt or become extinct.

good luck to the meek machines that will inherit the earth from us.

humanity is the disease. everything else just symptoms of the plague.

Effects and Causes

2011-05-15T00:57:00.004-04:00

he listens. seldom speaks. a broken toy. a rusted zipper. at the back her dress. a closure she can't quite reach.

it's not close. it's not distant. rather somewhere inbetween. time in graveyards. the minutes in eulogies. the dead can lie and say they've heard him. but the living know he's deaf.

she trains her faith on tomorrow. crooked smiles work the levers. blind eyes draw the maps. as she weighs. the empty baskets she still carries.

the perpetuity of god lies in the morality of men.

Breaking News

2011-04-30T01:03:00.001-04:00

This just in... there is no god.

Deal with it.

Sharp Corners

2011-03-22T00:29:00.006-04:00

she sees god in every corner. wherever it is dark. like residue on a chalkboard. the message is still there.

she yells. imagining him listening. cognizant of the frustration in her voice. thumb tacks underfoot as he struts. hands clasped behind his back. head nodding. as if to indicate he understands. those stubborn insects in the shadow of his path.

in every corner she sees him. in every catastrophe she feels his breath. a blundering giant. stumbling to build mazes ever more elaborate. the lonely scientist. infuriated by the intelligence of his rats.

a child with matches. bored with its toys.

Revolutions

2011-02-22T01:20:00.003-05:00

How is it that the Egyptian uprising doesn't inspire Americans to revolt?

It's simple.

Americans think they are free.

Are they really? Not so much.

This country is full of the downtrodden and the poor. The rich and elite run everything the same as they did in Egypt.

We're just running on some sad and ancient illusion of freedom that no longer exists.

Go Libyans! You're a far better people than us.

Found

2010-12-11T01:15:00.001-05:00

pageants of skin parading what was. a series. a storm of numbers. tearing down this shelter. it's the little stones and quiet whispers. that destroy this brick.

I'm not deciding. leaving the roads to choose. which way. which lie is next to push to button. wake the machine. this skin relentlessly conceals. the hours. the years. sharpening their teeth. devouring.

a turbine spinning. hunting without weapons. little girls on the last of their lollipop confessing. it wasn't sweet enough. brakes squeal. depositing us in these strange places. the engine still turning. like the gnaw of vermin. on dangling wires.

I'm finally there. I've found it. the thin lace that surrounds broken portals. the weak knots that keep the secrets. of stubborn angels.

I've found it, but I'd rather still be searching.

Solids

2010-11-09T23:56:00.005-05:00

her petticoat is thin. her costume is thick. as she peaks in through the window to heaven. her nose on the glass. her breath staining the sight of it.

the blackboard is blank as she appraises the classroom. she looks around for the teacher and decides she's it. the numbers dance in her head like bits of music too loud. the years give in and let her know them. eventually she learns.

the solution comes in dark poses and tattered dresses. the grin of puppets as their words float meaninglessly from wooden lips. in grim hiccups and futile chokes.

she tried to reason with him. explain the difficult choices of skin and bone. skeletons heavy with the drape of flesh. and masks full of hollow faces. but he wouldn't listen. didn't understand. the lives he had created.

she warned him that over was not something that could be debated. no one was coming.

but he's still waiting.

Lost and Found

2010-10-10T00:36:00.004-04:00

we lost. the same as everyone does. even though we were supposed to be different. we dug our claws into the ghosts. and wept when they didn't hold. tempting the devil as he tempted us. with only morsels left of the souls we'd always assumed were ours.

they get lost. it's dark so long and i forget. how to see. we lose. we lie. and tell ourselves we've won. ignoring the angels. as they shout at us. we are gods. this flesh our heaven. if only theory.

this touch our war. even though the battle was only a moment. i know that we've lost. Let the demons decide who we are. Crossed the bridges fallen behind us. told our lies and convinced ourselves of their truth.

sipped that last drink. spent that last dollar. dug the grave. for liars, lovers and friends.

they're all the same.

Dominion

2010-09-27T01:50:00.003-04:00

she turns her dress inside out. imagining god in the seams. spitting on stuck zippers. pieces of skin caught in them.

she auctions her skin. in pale reproductions. of the woman she once was. the staples. just shy. the knife. too weak.

she tells god how disappointed she is. I've seen enough heaven to know that blood is all they understand.

Voices

2010-03-16T02:01:00.004-04:00

It was. Cold complete. And dominant. Like yesterdays we had spit on and polished. Abbreviated epiphanies. Solid. And stubborn. With the flowers of spring.

Dancing on the fingernails of withering gods. Music in the background. Prostitutes on their arms. The cost when you're this close to heaven is hard to calculate. The price of this flesh isn't in weights, but rather in how. I don't know what they want. Don't know what I have.

We waste hours discussing. The existence. The plausibility of omnipotence. We draw our pictures on the heads of pins. To prove. The small is significant. I search the stars. For any indication. That I can be heard. By these deaf old men. That would claim to know. How hard it is.

I wait for a dialogue. Some explanation. Time ricochets. Comes back again. Like an echo. Of so many absent saviors.

She insists god is close. That he listens. She says. he can read our lips. But that he waits for the words to be spoken.

It Is

2010-03-05T23:54:00.004-05:00

You wouldn't say it's hard. Nor that it's easy. Just that it is. There. Humming under your skin. A lugubrious drum beat without an end. Spiders and their many webs. Toiling in the corners of our deception.

The birds on the grass. The worms in their beaks. You wouldn't say its wrong. Nor that it's right. Just that it is.

The girl. The window caressing her cheek. As she looks for an opening in the glass. The moon not penetrating. The sun just as weak. But the darkness. Oh the darkness. It always finds a way in.

She can't say it's wrong. Nor that it's right. She can only say is that it is.

Reactions

2010-02-28T00:58:00.003-05:00

The end came. It came just the same. In broken marbles and lazy door stops. It flung open the window and shouted. What do you want.

Her gods all at a loss for what disaster to posit next.

The end came. And then it went. THe world forgot. As is its strength.

Her gods speculating. On when we would understand the random. The butterfly that sneezes in every breath.

The end came. And began again. Waiting for her resolution. Bits of tape on the edge of her breasts patent their men. Partial solutions.

Collapes. Under the weight of absent saviors.

She reacts. As anyone would. Hatiing the maze that has kept her searching.

Sticky Fingers

2010-01-28T00:53:00.004-05:00

There is evidence of an exchange. A cold barter for needless things. The harpoon lost in the blubber of the whale. Anxious fishermen tugging on their empty ropes.

There is the antidote. The stale serum in her frown. Base with all the place this disease has taken her. The stitches. In her blanket of dead leaves. A cacophony of how. Those broken feathers ever managed to locate the ink. And numb fingers could write on missing pages.

The evidence plagues. As she wrestles with the now. Strict teachers. Ambivalent morality's. The question begs its answer. But she only begun to ask.

The question labors under the paradox. To ask. To answer. She asks when, but is thinking if.

Pasting her gods into collages. As if she knows where they are.

The glue left on her fingers keeping them close

Homonyms

2009-12-14T00:49:00.004-05:00

It's not cold at all. It's just hot showers in her underwear. As she teases the sun. With her long fingers. Frail with choices. Made for her. By bigger men.

It's not salvation. This night. Or any other. Blind infants spoiling in their mothers' tits. The red and the green teardrops of electricity. Stabbing the dark. In petulant dreams. Of fools and children unable to sleep.

There is no war in this heart. No soldiers in this skin. Just beggars and opportunists. Selling their tinsel to naked trees.

I've found him. So many times. But He was always a disappointment.

I've been saved by better men.

and destroyed by the same.

Little Things

2009-11-21T00:31:00.005-05:00

Trying on his shoes she was surprised by how tight they fit. He walks bigger than he lives. Unboxing her crayons she began to color in. A long series of outlines. This paper. And a heavy press. She was noticeably vexed by the images showing through from the other side.

Trying on his shoes she thought god's feet would've been bigger. That his suit would be tailored to his size. As small as it is. Strange how tiny he was. And how everyone else looked so big.

Take me on your journey. In dry markers and empty pens. You haven't even tried. Just gave up at the apes. This suffocating heaven is not your best work.

We can still walk. With our feet naked in the dirt. No need for shoes to specify the paths we've taken.

We can still flee this stifling eden. The bite marks in the apple turning brown. We grew so much bigger than you expected. It's no wonder you don't want to be found.

He left his shoes behind. For her to walk in for a little while longer. She tried. Loosened all the laces. But it was no use. He had started out small. And was only shrinking.

The Failing Girth of Heaven

2009-11-03T00:34:00.004-05:00

I slept til noon. Then still I slept some more. In a brittle bed of feathers and dust. The cellar in her thighs holding me hostage. For all the ways I had used the truth to my advantage.

We climbed tall buildings alone. To discover each other at the top. And jump off together. We bathed in the blood of the lamb while grooming the lions. The potency of real bedtime stories on the cusp of our lips. As we said only what was to be heard. In long stairways. Leading up to musty boxes. Filthy with too many of the precious things we've neglected.

I woke up. In his hungry arms. Certain he'd devour me. Like any god he expected all of me.

As with any paradise. It was only temporary.

The 16th Dimenison

2009-10-14T01:11:00.006-04:00

Time. Proliferations on a mad abacus. Add. Subtract. Petty differences. In the frown on her breasts. God. She asked. Why do you hide. What are you afraid of.

People he said.

It was my fault. I let them decide.

The teachers all stopped. Stunned. As she tried on the empty skin. Of the doll they assumed broken. God she said, you don't listen very well. You don't listen much at all. But we still do.

You blame us. We blame you. Isn't that the reason for religion. The animal. With the thorn in its paw. These thumbs you've given us. Pushing it in deeper.

My many time machines try, but fail to solve this conundrum. What if is god bored of us. What if he would rather we save ourselves.

What if god doesn't exist (He doesn't). We're talking (Always talking). Don't hear. (Don't listen). Each other.

There's nothing to save where we've come from.

Nothing (Everything). Choices. Combusting in a tunnel of flesh. Arrogant gods still buying into the hand.

Symptons of God

2009-09-19T00:37:00.002-04:00

Just raise your arm and I'll remove the rib. It won't be that bad. I'll do it fast.

She busied herself tracing the scars on her fingers. Burned out lanterns in empty rooms. She wrote her letters to god. In the big, cursive script of a a child yet to encounter the devil.

She asked her whys and her hows. Just as certain that she was the first to try as all the billions prior. Jump ropes the voices muttered as she examined the ink on her aging letters to him.

Gods are like gravity. They pull us down. When we need it and when we don't. Fists to big to resist. Full of ladders that always fall short of the heavens.

She dreams of when he was a child. A lost infant overwhelmed with the world he would create. Born into the nothing he would make real.

From the blood of his mother's womb. The child spat forth. Eager to conquer the despot called time. Who was she. The woman that birthed us god. Why does no one ask. Where he is. Where he comes from. Why he's so hard to find.

Perpetual Motion

2009-09-04T01:03:00.003-04:00

It's supposed to hurt. Yes. That much. This is Disneyland for the consciousness. Villains and all. You don't get to just wake up. You have to survive the nightmare. Learn the math. Skin plus skin is an atrocious sum. You don't see god. You just see am excuse. To stay the same.

The zipper on her lips coming undone. In a flourish of blood. Each word wounded. And every bandage too thin. As she tries herself on once again. With Lucifer in her pocket. And Jesus in her fist. She talks in minus and listens in division.

Solving quickly for x. Selling off her gods for the comfort of demons.

God comes in snapshots. Pictures process the flesh. Empty pens stab the blankness. Crippled gods on their last confession. Admit we are nothing. Salvation suffers through the pasteurization of skin. It's too hot in heaven to die. It's too cold in this world to live.

I dream of Beethoven. I wake up deaf. I can't hear god. But I can read his lips.

Single White God Seeks...

2009-08-12T00:25:00.004-04:00

It was a bloody birth. On the corner of the bed. As god's breasts heaved with the toil of labor. Through a small passage the large head emerged. Sticky red and eager to embrace the hyperbole that had made it famous.

She reached a stubby finger way back. Into the abyss between tooth and gum. A blunt pitchfork stabbing for used meat. And missing scraps of divine intervention.

No miracles in my gruel tonight she muttered. As the cracker's paste slid from where her wisdom teeth should've sprouted. Empty, hard jaws chewed on the gospel called death.

God knelt down beside her and lifted up her dress. The pretty things he had created now so ugly with decision. It's a shame he sighed as he began to penetrate her. that a penis is no longer just a penis. A vagina not simply that.

It's depressing said god. The people that love me, I hate them. And the ones I do love don't even believe I exist. It's not easy being omnipotent. It's lonely really.

So many people talking. No one listens.

Dividends

2009-07-30T23:53:00.002-04:00

Maybe it was the bear on the porch. Minor miracles. If there can be such a thing. Perhaps it was the chocolate on my lips as the summer sun brought my insides to a boil.

God laid down in my bed. As ill kempt as it was. He said. Wake up. Right where you are. As you have been. Teasing the portal. That flexible membrane between words and skin. That the foolish call heaven.

Don't sleep. Time is too fickle to remember you. Don't touch. Feel. All the angels in your drug. A million empty pens gauging the paper.

Satan is always an asset. When you're sober. God is always a liability when you're not.

God Complexes

2009-05-10T01:33:00.003-04:00

God came to her in a din of voices. One amongst millions. She still heard him. Try on those bullets. Wear your monsters. No one knows you better.

The vacant numbers. The broken clock. The moist pillow. As she pretends to sleep on it. The soft dolls. With arms made of clay. Still holding on/ As heaven begins to forget.

Eager angels. And their heavy wings.

God comes to her. Often. and without remorse. She watches him. As he paces in his nightgown. She wonders. How close he is. To knowing us.

He dips his arrows in poison. He tests his bow for trueness. He hunts just as any animal does. Sniffing out the weakest.

She runs. But he runs faster. She stops. He doesn't wait.

She sees him. He doesn't see her.

God is an Astronaut

2009-05-03T00:56:00.004-04:00

God on all fours. Satan stumbles softly now. With black wings on the thirsty wind. Moments. Maybe less. Scorn the appetites of certain deities. Little Jesus in his creaking crib. Cries the flesh of man. Foul blanket smothers the soul.

God with three legs. Limps. Collar loose. Leash singing. Tied to a post. So far from the house. Where life happens. People forget. How close the apple is.

Stray gods. On the backporch. Sniff the meat. Of discarded women. Mothers. Whores. Children. Swimming in each other's nightgowns. Between the sheets of this broken nirvana.

No priests. No baptisms. No gifts. For fallen angels. Black with betrayal.

God is an astronaut in a broken spaceship. Searching for life anywhere he can find it.

* God was an astronaut is originally from the Tabitha's Seret song "Jesus Was An Alien".

Far From Saved

2009-04-24T00:39:00.002-04:00

Enough of these primitive gods. Strict interpretations of loose skin. I don't want to wear it anymore. The pale math that would ;eaves us such remainders as this. Boasts the dog. With clean claws. The cat is caught. But the mouse still gnaws. On the corners of the walls.

Killing is a science. Measuring their resolve. God is a liar. The zipper on his panties falling open. As I travel that yellow brick road. NO brains. No hearts. To give. Just wizards. Behind their curtains.

To blame.

She said, Jesus. I can see you there. Come out. Face your people. She said, Jesus, you died for nothing. Because we are so far from saved.