Dear God above I beg of thee to reveal yourself.
Dear God below I beg you to make your presence known.
Dear King of Olympus cast down your thunderbolt.
Dear Xenu will you show us if Hubbard was right?
Dear Flying Spaghetti Monster I'd even accept you.

I can see no evidence for a God, but I beg to.

Clear water and blue skies
Distorted through glass eyes
Watery distortions
In the human mind
Heavenly perceptions
Made to confine
Reality
A spectrum defined
By the untrained minds
Cloud kings and underworld gods
Flaming pools
And cumulous mansions
Madness
Made to make us accept
The status quo
To slow our roll
We are Sisyphus
Pushing a boulder
Ever upwards
Without water
Without a break
Till they steal our last breath
They say only fools believe
In what they perceive
That the spiritual
Is the factual
But Plato’s Socrate’s cave
His allegory
Fits our life
Explains it with a perfect fable

And when I take in this air
The wind mirrors
The currents underneath me.
We're made of the same
Un-cut-able energy.

These under-waves that breathe
In Blooming aneurisms,
Like a great heart
Caught in the rhythm of the moon
And it's steady eyelid.

We are but capsules of this movement
On loan from the ocean.
Void-mother, salt nirvana
Breathing alongside us
And through our many faces.

Deep, hungry, all consuming black,
As the only affront to the abyss.
Her maelstrom-stomach
Now spitting wood and bottles
At the shore.

Before the inversion of her,
Loosening her keen grip on life
She settled to exist in scars
Pounding rhythm into the shore
And singing in many voices.

That masculine sun
Holding her flat, rejecting advancements,
Falls in their dance
And cannot cover her turning.
He flees the storms.

She swallows electric
Giving light to the deeper life
The great glowing thuds returned
She’s waking hearts to contain a fury,
She's making music into movement into us.

And from the movements,
Bubbles take the warmth up
Past the gaze of colossal ones
Living their lives as silhouettes.

Past caryatids in the black,
With curious eyes,
Holding up sponge-lined trenches
Threaded with eels.

Past the sand bed stretches
Thick with silt-eating things
Relishing the mud
That rises on the corners of rocks.

Past a plaice's eye
Which Crawls across his face,
In his short puberty,
Looking for dangerous shadows.

Delicate bubbles turn
Their pressured skins
Up through water currents,
To come burst at my feet,

And in the millionth morning
That comes into its opening
I am rocked like a child
In the movement I’m made of.
So I can just look forward
At the sun-blink.

My thoughts are chemicals.
I am made of recycled cells
That I ingest, I take in what's best
For optimal health, active or at rest.

My DNA as mysterious as the Cosmos,
The Cosmos less of a mystery than Ocean floors.
I come from the Ocean, an awesome notion,
A family with all others, every Thing is a cousin.

My ancestors all made it to reproduction.
I am assembled, through history, through selection.
My traits have been crafted, positively reacted.
Nurtured by Nature, genes that have lasted.

I am made from the stars,
Drink water that passed through dinosaurs.
I experience Life, though filled with a bounty of strife,
Through eyes of a Human, intelligence my paradise.

And though my species feels more advanced
And in control of a world we craft with our own hands,
We are not self-efficient, resources increasingly deficient,
A virus to be easily shaken, in which the planet would not be missing.

I have a fleeting gift,
Amidst the destruction that here lives,
And that is my consciousness,
No fear of abyss, no promise of bliss,

But in my spark of a lifetime,
Seemingly insignificant, and that's fine,
I have inside endless thoughts with my mind,
No need of afterlife with a gift so divine.

pull me close son of god
let me emulate your perfection
in the similar direction skewed by human perception
what is perfect god?
are you?
though since you create creatures with fallibility
you must know so yourself
you must realize the nature of mistakes in order to make them
when you breathe forests grow and seeds are sewn
you tiptoe through the seas and make your mark on the continents
platypodes? the most useless creature
but beautiful
with the combined features of simpler folk
duck
******
but then god
you created me
or did you?
did i sprout from my mothers ****** because nature made me that way
or did the universe align to spew me onto the world because it needed my difference
i dont think you had anything to do with it
i think the world was born, as was all life after it
by the scientific methods so many have studied
but i do not disbelieve you could be out there
necessarily
but for that matter i also do not think you are omniscient
i dont think you control the stars
i think you live in a collective consciousness of the witness-less humans
with little to believe in
i think through the millions beliefs that you exist
you have come to be
and you give us someone to blame
to thank
when inexplainable circumstance haunts our present
you exist because we do
not the other way around
we have created you
we have put you into the sky through prayer
and shaped your vision with our verse
humans are clever with our big brains and big brawn
but we are not so wise to realize how much power we manifest collectively
we have created mass fear through words
through stories
we have created global hope through the telling of tales
we are individually weak
holding little power
but as a whole
humanity holds the might to shake the very foundations of the earth
we create beings larger than ourselves so we have a way to feel humble
because without the fear of restitution
our constitution weakens
and we either wilt
or grow too large for our britches resulting in catastrophe
though some use the belief in god to justify their hate
but they have created a personal god
one who is not a part of the greater spirit
a god toxic in nature
and small and weak
so atheists are not the righteous and true
but neither are those who believe in a higher power
neither am i
or you
we are all cells in the lining of the galaxies ******
and if you add fear into our equation
we hold the power to create new beings
no matter how imaginary
so god exists if you want to believe in it
but the disbelief is also valid
because god does not exist to you

Lifetime warranty spiked above the headboard –
Pounded, driven in.
A ****** memento for spellbound comfort.
For beleaguered convenience, every vindication.

From the reliquary a
Prefect draws Scrabble squares:
Transgressions divined in crossword.
Taking them on, like Him, and
Glaring, feeding them back to you, a
Beguiling grin:
Absolving all.

Not quite the mother, at least
Present to explain the
Pain she bears for you.

Not Santa, not Tooth Fairy,
Unworthy of the wall.

The Easter Bunny,
Harebrained scheme,
Foot hacked clean at absurdity’s altar, keeps
         Suffering
                     and suffering
                                  and suffering.

But you do clutch, and do not falter.

******, magical pretense,
Lurid, laudable as a
Hotdog on a stick, and just as
Tasteless.

Snake oil, tendrils crossing paths in a
Greasy Baptismal pool,
Soliciting the stranglehold.

No grace; just a
Wolf and a
Sheep.
Guess which you are.

for years I prayed to a God who isn't there,
when I stopped,
I saw the raven in the church hall.