and a weight in my pocket
Is God dangling a carrot,
or is the carrot God?
Perhaps my efforts are laughable
What happened to the transcending flow
of oxygen and love?
Now, even what’s precious has hardened
The wind of spirit usually up lifts
Now, the spirit is something to carry
A weight in my pocket
In high school, one of my favorite songs was Depeche Mode’s “Blasphemous Rumors”. The song seemed less dramatic back then, but bless “The Mode” for not being neon happy 80’s music. Nevertheless, it’s what’s looping in my brain’s playlist right now; not because of the tragic story of the daughter in the song, but because of the head-thrown-back, mouth wide opened, belly bouncing, bellowing God character.
Below is another older poem of mine exploring God being the essence of all things perfect, including the perfect sick sense of humor (favorite songs get into the blood). God is a fine point, as well as a five o’clock shadow. I objectify him. Calling God he is even objectifying. In addition, spirituality becomes solid, even burdensome. That bothers me more than God being a pain in the ass – a spirit in pain and causing pain.
I realize that our spirits don’t and can’t always carry us. We have to carry them, sometimes. I must be heavy for my spirit. She lies awkward and unconscious in my arms after crawling to me. She’s the victim in God’s and my conflicts. We both know that.
The most perfect
sick sense of humor
Next to the most perfect storms,
and perfect timing, and sunsets
Perfection is not just
good, happy, love, universe
Perfection can be
the perfect hate, accident, pain,
Death is not bad, it’s perfect
The wild is not evil,
it’s perfectly neutral
Want perfection to be love?
Make it love
Darkness is perfection, too,
just don’t choose it
Perfection is neutral
Perfection is extremes
Penetrates, surrounds, expands,
creates, lives after death,
never lives, tangible, non-tangible
Nothing to prove, an idea
And so romantic
– Even The Smallest Bird Casts a Shadow, ©2015
Image: ? 2013 Anyone know?