You say that you're a monotheist first,
but you believe in Mars and Jupiter, with Osirus for dessert.
Do you worship "i-am" only, or above only his lovers?
And cousins, friends, grandparents, sons - Alert!
We never said there are no others.
Your jealous god states (yea, he sure dictates)
Thou shalt not worship another god, not any above him.
But this manifestation, you know, was given to those
who did magic on top of the mountains.

So where have you hidden the fractalized gods,
and what have you done to my mother?
Your sea-mary counts so far down below
but still, in your world, more than the Goddess.
Why is it that God's name is writ plural - just lies?
or a way for the Christians to fashion a bridge?
And who was it that stood in the darkest of skies
to hear God's desiring souls in "our" image?

Where has Apollo gone, and what of poor Dionysius?
Never mind for now the ring around
your rosy incorporated chart
- we'll circle here and all fall down
'Round father son and ghost -
but now let's see, now let's hear about God's own sweet angels?
Not human souls, but messengers
Avengers thirsty and the spies, with lofty principalities.
Tell all right now about real seraphim
- not the Cupid, but the cherabim -
all beams and wings unfurled, all scrolls and hidden faces
all the glowing, hallucinations of the many, many races.

One so frightening proclaims oh "do not fear" ethereal insemination
to seastar-mare, eternal slave, hand-maiden of the line,
but others pass for men - and the women shelter them -
until the walls come down, again. Again. Again.
We read them as benevolent, these shiny bureaucrats,
though they be walking, bodied functions
iconic shapes of thought who bring us plagues,
and war, and death, destruction.

Who was inquisitor golden, releasing plagues and pests?
Who was director of intelligence, recording secret scrolls?
Your alpha director, vengeful one,
should simply grow up and stop punishing you
for failing to meet his impossible goals.
Your god makes you schizo
with constant double messages and holes.

Another movie mirror of your sad pathologies,
like Islamofascists - sounds the same on both sides.
From sheol, from hades, the liminal twilight realms
you format your lake of fire, but the hell you create in your own world
rides faster... than a blue-turbaned fool on a donkey.
Do you really believe that your sins just peel off, soul curdled
- if you only have faith - if you only feel free -
while you build up your sociopath honkeys?

You're willing to bring on apocalypse now
but no lord cleans up after his steward.

You tell me that your savior comes, but only to resurrect you
as a zombie to frighten away your nonexistent children of the future.
I can't understand how goodness can be
membership in your meaningless community,
formed and bounded by collective hatred
of any outsider (especially the outsider within).
Who among you today believes in the virtue
of this bad news of a "king"dom?

Lord of light, fallen Lucifer, made the self-same mistakes.
Your image a devil now, in red horns and tail
for fear and conversion and control.
He, always he, longs for wild days as Pan.
Pipes playing, hooves dancing, and wine
you've turned into the blood of innocents again.
Again. Again. Again.
Like you, your sa-tan, the liar, the adversary
was part of the system.
He took his time out from walking about,
to trick your dumb god to Job's torture.
You lack the compassion to
even feel awkward, while sucking it
down for your network connection.

And when prophets arise as they usually do
to challenge and ask for account,
the right sinks in might and devious masks
and power thus speaks on to truth.
You would kill your messiah again yet today
between patriot acts and your terror.
Jesus would think our leaders were jerks,
but here is what will surprise you:
The pious are still the same usury-changers,
squat shadows in temples most foul.
God's God looks out through the eyes of the strangers,
And smells what comes out of your bowels.

You have still a chance with a God that is love,
All around, and all through, and below and above.
If you would be of faithful and loving (and lead),
Wake up now and see what you do.
Take a hard look - repent - and swallow your shakes,
take a chance, turn around now toward caring.
It's still not too late, but the longer it takes,
the more souls hang down from your neck.
Remember 'fore signing your name to the scroll,
your choices - they form and they mold you.

Don't wait 'til your bloodguilt deepens the stain,
on the hands that will never release you.

(June 3, 2004, revised May 3 2005, October 23rd 2006)