patience poems

godbrain
***
some say the world is built on a hole
and some say its scaffolded on rickety bone
but i say the worlds foundation is spongy
and i say its mystery is ours to all own
its froth and its squish we may equal distribute
with knife we apportion the now newly known
a pledge: for each baby born, one piece of god-brain
us-dirt in which gods brain-seed is sown
with time, we'll sprout up god's wholeness
all-her, with nary scepter nor throne
we'll recall that god, like her bearers, does struggle
a sinner, just like us, who seeks to atone
we'll remember that god's brain was never divided
and feel then her presence. we were never alone

devil tongue
***
know that he is a parasite who
commandeers your selfish will
like those sea bugs who become
fish tongues.

know that gently she will push you
she'll gently, but know that he will
demand that by our tongues his
hymn is sung.

know that the devils most favored of hosts
are unsalvageable wicked. gods goodness cant fill them
any more than air can fill and swell up
punctured lungs.

know that humans sin but also know surely
that nature sins, mirrors devil-cruelty
and makes sure our selves will in time come
unstrung.

know him. agonys author, pains living will
the instrument of torture, the natural disaster
know, and pray that by gods noose the devil
is hung.

know the devil is strongest, but gods getting stronger
and that gods loving mercy must encompass wrath too
pray. so that god grows strong and the devil's will is
undone.

cosmic clash
***
ive been told that life's a twofold dance like the silver streaks
that meld together like liquid before your eyes
for the few moments when youre flipping a coin.
foolish.

also ive heard from sources unreliable that nature
is a perfect balance, and that evil is justified
because without it good cannot survive.
ghoulish.

our lives are not a joke. our sickness, aging, suffering, dearth
and death. are not expressions of some depraved cosmic mirth
the scary thing about nature is how our pain's arbitrary
and that to all great things except god our deaths pass with barely
a glance and a shrug. so lets take a step back, reconsider some falsities
about how joy needs pain and how plenty requires paucity
what harmony or growth-through-hardship arises from a car crash?
its no shimmy in some cosmic dance. its a knife-swipe in the cosmic clash
the devil wants a world in which we suffer, we die and our hopes were all fatuous
but god knows we can grow even when the world's not so unbearably arduous
and when our grip on life is not forced to be so fragile, so tenuous.

so make no mistake:

every socialist movement destroyed by subterfuge
or every grain crop decimated by weevils
is meant to turn our precious lives into refuse
and strike another blow for the victory of evil.

and every good person who slays the predatory
is a stroke of gods blade, and is also "i love you"
when the final clash is won, may it be to gods glory
may god's fairies revel just inches above you.