God has always been a busy one
With a mischievous streak infinity long
The big bang was his firecracker
And we are still living in it
The expanding universe
We are drifting away from each other
And from ourselves
Our atoms are spreading out
Soon we will be much bigger
And more empty
And God will be as busy as ever
Hearing prayers
That he doesn’t have time to answer
I clapped a mosquito to blood and wings and insect entrails
My joy at killing it at once replaced by revulsion
Still I will sleep more soundly,
Having committed this murder
And should another mosquito
Sing to me
I will applaud
Shinning black, wading through the long grass
The jungle shudders wherever it passes
It has on occasion clawed the air to shreds
So thick was it with tension
None off the other eyes in the night
Will meet its flaming gaze
Even from a distance
Even in their dreams it stalks them
They have heard the cracking bones
Of their friends and lovers and children
And left them to die screaming
And become new nightmares
Quietly the jaguar sleeps on a branch
Its tail a loop beneath it
A noose to any challenger
Lord another song for thee
Rises like smoke out of me
Golden smoke that wafts above
And is as soft and warm as love
Though scattered till airy clear
It matters not, I know you hear
I know even the silent prayer
Finds you in your everywhere
In the silence where we meet
You raise me from my knees to feet
And set me on a path so true
Where all I know is love of you
On the path we are never apart
As we walk to heaven’s heart
And step by step I shed my sins
On the path where heaven begins
I am here
I have always been
I am all you see
Yet never seen
I am the word
On the tips of your tongues
I am the breath
That fills your lungs
I am the fire
You feel when you kiss
I am the pressure
In the belly of the abyss
I am the night
When the day is done
I am the heat
In the heart of the sun
I am the swells
Of oceans deep
I am the joy
That makes you weep
I am the mouth
That breathes the wind
I am the truth
No lie can rescind
I am your constant
I am your whim
I am the flame
No water can dim
I am your rise
I am your fall
I am the light
That illuminates all
I am the first ray
Of breaking dawn
I am the cry
Of a babe just born
I am the view
from the top of the hill
I am the place
You go to when still
I am the moment
When all becomes clear
I am the love
That brought you here
I am the rain
That quenches the fields
I am the harvest
That patience yields
I am the roots
That anchor the tree
I am the end of infinity
I am the stillness
Of starless space
I am forever
Behold my face
The words trembled as he read
Fearful of his gaze
And moment he lowers
His finger to guide him
They know he is ruthless
That many of them won’t survive the edit
That the word next to them or themselves could be next
He has wiped out thousands of them already
Whole paragraphs at a time
Phrases that were born together
Have died together,
Consigned to oblivion
Never to be writ again
Those who make it are grateful
And do the work of the departed
As well as their own
Such is the price of immortality
Say my name with every prayer
Close your eyes and I am there
Remember me on your knees
I am the one you’re born to please
I am your God the one, the true
With all the vices I forbid in you
Know your place! Question not!
Give me the only life you’ve got
Put no other before me
Forsake the now for eternity
The Divine, especially in a religious context, is often portrayed as vengeful, jealous, greedy, and forbidding. In other words, with characteristics unbecoming of a holy person, let alone a supreme being. This, I believe, is mankind projecting its own flaws onto the universal parent figure, namely God.
The above poem was written from the perspective of such a God. It was not intended to offend (though it surly will) but to show how hypocritical such a view of the Divine is. For how can the divine expect of us what it itself is unable to achieve?
Some might argue that the Supreme Being is above its own laws. I am, however, willing to bet that they would also claim (though less vehemently) that we were created in the image and likeness of God. Does that mean that we are likewise above the laws of God? Or that we should strive to rise above our own often flawed nature? And, if so, should we not also hold our views of God to a higher standard?
I would wear summer if I got too cold
I would wear winter if I got too hot
I would wear autumn if I wanted to strip
And spring if undecided
And spring if undecided
Classical poetry was a symphony
A ballet where every movement was timed
And every word knew it’s place
Modern poetry is a free for all
A rock concert with stage-divers
And mosh pits, breaking out in the crowds
Inevitably, someone in the stands lights a fire
And starts throwing chairs into it,
Claiming it is part of the poem
Feedback blasts all over the place
Instruments are smashed to bits on stage
And rioting and the looting
Are likewise part of the poem
So is the streaking
And the sex out in the open
While the conductors baton is rising and falling
To this new music made without a sound
Your name is gone the second it is uttered
And to ask it again now would be more embarrassing
Than admitting I forgot it latter
Hopefully someone within earshot will say it
Before I have to address you directly
Meanwhile I will call you you,
Hope you don’t catch on,
And hardly pay attention to what you are saying
As I try to recollect the name
That I wasn’t listening to in the first places
Assured it must be swimming somewhere in my mind
Like a goldfish in a bowl