found in the dark
like a light switch
faith, or fear
I went to bible study
and when I sat down
in the group
not even a “hello”
It was like they had been pissed-on by demons
and they spoke of the war in Ukraine
about the farmers stealing tanks
poking holes in gas tanks.
God is on vacation
while the gods of war
want mushroom clouds.
I understand why people take mushrooms
with an economy threatening their future
their perfect wives
behind a white picket fence
I say, “let the bombs drop”
let death come
I am ready
If we can’t live honorably, let’s see if we can die honorably
We will see who believes in God
when the rivers choke
and the skies fall
and the rocks glow
and the grass is dead,
and all hope is forgotten
like a lost generation.
I long for this moment
because, it will be a true test
I have been living here, ready to take my examination
to get an A, for asshole
where reality rains, like radiation.
We are comforted by the lies we believe
It’s not that people have a lack of faith—
they believe in all kinds of lunacy that makes them feel good
the philosopher will be the last man standing
not because he has a chance
but because he must stand for something.
The truth doesn’t matter
when the equation is erased.
What can we solve, beyond comfort and death?
That is the philosopher’s question
and when he answers it
he will be a madman
in the dark
until he finds the light, with his heart.
The bible leader spoke about God’s provision in our lives
how he went to medical school
and the gifts of God kept coming.
His audience was full of ditch diggers and the unemployed
the disabled, and those who believe in luck (I believe in luck—although, I’m not supposed to)
I wish he talked about persecution, like he did last week
or suffering, that intensifies.
I could’ve done something with that
but he wanted us to believe life makes sense
Life works out
like a body builder, who never misses a day in the gym
and drinks protein shakes, and never farts
but I think life is a fat man in the McDonalds drive-through
waiting for a heart attack, and the Big Mac
Life works out, when it has to
God is always there, and most people don’t care
where you belong
and when the mushroom clouds come
the split atom, is beautiful
like a man-made sunrise.
I’ll be on the golf course, watching the show
while the fair-weather golfers gather in bomb shelters
trying to eek-out two-more-minutes of existence
I’ll read poetry
because, death is poetic
so is life,
if you hear the beat
People try to make it a religion,
a perfect house.
I make it a philosophy.
It’s the only way to keep the lights on
until they go out.