The only reason I don't believe in god
Is that every time I call out and wait
For a response,
I hear one
But it isn't the shining distant
Palace of foretold heaven
But instead,
My own thoughts knocking around
In a hollow skull
That I found in the gutter
A long time ago and decided
It was about time I had fun
And ran with it as a joke
A great joke, a cosmic joke
The joke
Laughing all the way to
The enlightenment that
the completely Lost
sob around but never
Penetrate
The world turns its humble face
From the oscillating bits that make
Up their fibre of being and exist
Only so we may exist alongside them
Because the world it seems, has
Matured too much, gone to far
To fraternize with the original
Few who will outlast any
Newly minted spirit the string-pulling
Puppets could muster up
Inside their cobwebbed memories
Devoid of the experience
Because that's all we can be, isn't it?
Memories
The fools will cry
But the enlightened ones will laugh on
And on realizing that
Failure, being the apex, is forever
And success is singular
Letting themselves drop so far
That they find themselves
Beyond the game and petty rules
In a place were fire whispers
And the trees don't mind
Being burnt
Because only what comes
Can be the true redeemer
The past is only set in stone because
The mason has given up his future
Along with the Good Christians
Who have resigned themselves
Not even bothering for a formal
Agreement or deed to their
Autonomy
And who when the next jesus walks along the lonely path to the hill
After fighting a war with
A few close friends more lost
Will stand and throw rocks like Romans and not see the flow of what could be
And then in the same age advanced be called the murderers of the new prophet
This sad excuse of a worldly Society
Rests thrashing in
The final throes
Legitimizing non reality
And the world of professionals who
Have turned reality on its head
Turning the world into a place where
Cloth creates flesh and not
The order of flesh atop
The holy hierarchy lacking a point
Living in the base
And all we are left with are crises
That no one can afford to fight
We strap ourselves to the ride to hell
Not seeing that the man who pulls the lever is just the same as the one
Who burns first.
The people search for a god in the sky
The more adventurous  with
Chemicals coursing through
their veins
But god is in the grass
Speaking without words
But in instances
Moments of eternity where
All that was, time and space
Flow in and all that could be but hasn't becomes formalized as occurrence
Flows out leading to the inventive
Moments of bliss just beyond
Grasping hands.