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Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Challenging The God Pimps


(click for Revver vid)

by Jolie Blond

04/26/2004


Old men,

bullet heads,

their souls lead poisoned,

their lives three-quarters spent

and one quarter useless,

sit at the conversation benches

yakkin' about God.


God is love, the God-pimps sigh . . .

God is love, the God-pimps decree . . .

Oh, whispering willows of wimpish winds:

God is love.


Bullshit, I say,

God is not love . . .

Why would you want to reduce

the Great Architect,

the omnipotent, all powerful, all mighty

creator of a universe so complex and grand
that your
puny brains
couldn't grasp

one one hundred quadjillionth of it,

Why would you reduce God
down to such a puny little box

as "love" ?


Their mouths open, jaws dropped,

the God-pimps begin to protest,

but I am on a roll now

and there is no stopping me.


Keep your puny little effeminate

sniffling god, I say,

the wallflower god who waits in the corner

until you old farts have finished your debaucheries

and casual insults

and moral ambiguities . . .

waits for you

so that he can make your hard lives up to you

by buying you a Cadillac.


Keep your sissy god, I say,

my God is a conditional God,

He says so in His book:

If you obey, then I will covenant . . .

I am the potter, He says, not you,

I will make of you what I will,

pisspot or sacred vessel,

and if I don't like the looks of you,

I'll toss your broken shards

out into potter's field.


The old God-pimps are angry,

their open, loving palms

closed to fists.


Be careful, I say,

God loves me.

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