She submerges us

in a great deluge of words --


We're completely soaked.

God must be sky blue,

then there will be no problems --


will be white nor black.

The ritual after work
in the dark at the end
of the evening twilight

The dim light of the low clouds
in 1883, when the nights in the country
were still black

The farmer stoops
poking a dry smell
from the weeds of the day

It lingers
in a plume of smoke
above the sparks

Chapel in the woods:

inside, the flames are flaring --


autumnal silence.

No one is themselves,

people are always leaking --


in each other's lives.

The words keep whining

in my head, they're complaining --


their imposed silence.

Quiet! Stop shouting!
There's nothing to worry about
because God gets what He wants
That is... winning, say the books
the dogmas and the prophets
God is God, He gets what He wants

He wants war and peace, famine
and full shops, freedom and revolution
He wants Semtex and He wants ***
lots of virgins and gigolos and
He gets what He wants
or is that a joke?

God wants borders, drugs and flood
God wants laws, gangs and crime
God wants prayers and big money
pounds and dollars, rupees and rials
renminbi, euros and pesos
The liras He rejects

God wants subservience
He loves secrets
solutions and the internet
God wants to laugh
so He helps us all
and He gets what He wants

God wants friendship and fame
with drinks and dinners, He wants registers
and banks, He wants credit with or without
interest, He wants debt and poverty
and insurances for everything
He gets what He wants