Wise guy poetry-dude got a piece put up in Community Spotlight.
Thinks he's some hot shit.
Gonna go buy a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches
and start smoking a pipe.
Stop checking the recs and comments, Lord Dickweed Byron.
You still got today's poem to write.
Get on it, Jack.
Jot it down below the expressionist cheese doodle.
Stretching one's head is recommended.
You have to keep it in shape.
or it will tighten up and shrivel,
Like a peanut in the clothes dryer.
We used to call this "expanding one's consciousness",
but it's really just paying attention
to my toes sinking in stinking, mortal mud
while my ears flap in the breeze,
my bald pate soaks up the light,
and the sweat and blood and tears run down into the fetid filth below.
I listen to the wind that pleads
I must do what I can do
whenever I can do it.
I do not ask or expect you to be worthy.
You are a god and I expect you to be godly.
Small-g gods like us rarely walk on water
We are often rotten bastards
grasping, cruel and willfully stupid.
We are baboons with cars and smartphones.
We sojourn in the hotel of all the universe
with a splendid view of the cosmos from our balcony
but we close the drapes, stare at the TV
and scheme up a plan to steal the towels.
Just open the damned drapes and step out.
Just run down the corridors of this world,
greeting your fellow gods and goddesses,
reveling in your divinity.
god needs you to put down the remote.
god needs you to get up and go take a shower.
god needs you to dig your cleanest pair of undies out of the hamper.
god needs you to put your shoes and socks on.
Not God.
I mean god.
Not Our god. Not this god or that god.
I mean We god.
The world is ours to build up or tear down,
to cherish or abuse,
All humanity is a nation of divine beings.
ask any pooch.
Do we not make fire?
Do we not make sticks and rocks and chew toys fly through the air?
Do we not produce liver treats from crackling magic bags?
Do we not summon our fellow gods to bring sausage pizza and Crab Rangoon to our dwelling places?
Do we not befoul our own water bowl and magically make the water fresh and clean?
If dogs could speak they would tell us of their astonishment at these miracles
We are already in heaven, so be an angel and straighten up this damn mess.
Clean up the mildew in the fridge and while you're at it
keep the mine tailings and fracking residue out of our food and water.
When you are done with that,
there are less fortunate gods who need you to perform miracles
to feed those who hunger and thirst,
to heal the sick,
comfort the afflicted,
visit the prisoners,
and bring justice into this world.
Just a little tip,
You'll feel more godly if you throw that ratty bathrobe in the wash
and go put on a clean shirt.
Trust me,
I'm a god,
I know this.
More ruleoflaw poems...