Here am I
Amongst thousands
And thousands
Of voices -
Poets and journalists,
Novelists and singers -
Clanging the cymbal
Of earth's groaning cry.
There you are,
Hosts of angels
Singing, your voice
Together sounding
The praises of our God.

read my body like a bible,
let your tongue be the bookmark
that browses my pages,
and embeds between my spine
right where it shouldn't;
say my name like a prayer,
and i'll worship the shrine
under your stomach
like a god— my god!
let me lick the statuette

The songmaker is my shepherd; I shall not despair.
His melodies make me lie down in green meadows;
His chords lead me by still waters.
He restores my soul, and leads me in the path of harmony.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of silence,
I will not fear loneliness, for you are with me; your blues guitar
responds to me, your notes like raindrops wash away tears.
You prepared a table for me in the high school cafeteria.
You quickened my pulse; my ecstasy was with you.
Surely comfort and joy will follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the Houses of the Holy, for evermore.

The Monetary Moai
Standing on the shore
Making sure you worship them
Making sure they get more.

More of your offerings
More of your respect
Even if the have to take you
And hang you by the neck.

The Moai are important
With their grant-faced stare.
You may or may not like them
But they don’t have to care.

They are the gods to you,
And you the fools that revere them.
You put them on their pedestals;
Stop others from coming near them.

You, the ones who refuse
To question them and their power
Have made them the gods they are
Right up until their final hour.

It they ever revert to the truth
As just strange hunks of stone
Maybe then you will leave them
Ignored, disintegrating and alone.

But as long as these monoliths
Represent something good to you
There is nothing that the rest of us
Can, by resisting them, can ever do.

We can talk and chant and rant
And tell you that you are all fools
But it was your hands that put them up
Your effort, superstitions and tools.

God in a devils suit
Top hat man trap
Corporation God.
A Rod for your back
You are offering me your taxes
You owe big
He says as he smokes his cigarette
and looks at your bill
"Worship me in your nightmares
and daydreams
Scream my name in your games and magazines
I see your shame the pain behind your sin
I made you, you can't even win
When you die your soul belongs to me"
What are we but slaves
To a god who wants us to worship
In this imperfect world of scripture
Should we all worship him with rapturous applause
Or throw down the gauntlet and ******* come from our jaws
If love is our god then let us love without favouritism
Love can heal any hurt and stop cataclysm
and it'll stretch further than capitalism...

She clasped his face
In her hands firmly
She broke off the kiss
To read his weary skin
Her eyes peered into his dark ones
Dead dreams swirled in them
All she saw was magical madness
This moment encased their worship
Together they were a nascent universe
Her devotion to be devoured
His lips inflamed for her touch
He struggled to kiss her weak
She held him more torn and lost
"Your lips are too pure to kiss me"

Some people worship cows and the Egyptians worshipped cats.
They should've worshipped Jehovah God but they didn't do that.
Some people have also worshipped plants when they saw them sprout.
Only God should be worshipped, without him, humanity wouldn't have come about.
Worshipping animals and plants is wrong in the eyes of God, worshipping The Lord is what we must do.
Worshipping anything other than The Almighty God is unacceptable and that is one hundred percent true.
People also practice false worship when they show their love of ***, money and drugs.
More people are getting killed as each day passes by because of crime, sin and thugs.
When people idolize anything other than God, it is terrible and wrong.
We can devote our worship only to The Lord, he can make us strong.

there isn't all that much to worship
but the long fingers of some unknown
god granting us with melody
and meaning

or maybe this girl of my dreams
she sells sea shells by the slaughterhouse
a real diamond in the rough
saving dimes to escape from ****** mountain

I found truth in a forgotten library
the rise of the blue lotus
watered by the flooding of pain

dawn appears

“I am a jealous God,” said the Hebrews’ deity.
Ain’t got patience for a jealous God, for I’m a spirit free.
I have many idols, on this terrestrial sphere.
And if I didn’t worship them, I’d surely not be here.
For they are Icons, real, of what I have struggled to attain,
my ideals and aspirations, or of persistence through the pain.
I worship them with love, despite their fallibility.
They guide me and inspire me,
with their strength and creativity.
For example-- modern martyrs, who’ve sacrificed for others;
I'm sure that Jesus would think of them as sisters and as brothers.
And rock and roll; it’s my religion; I know the Promised Land
cannot be much like heaven, without my favorite band.
What I seek but never find is Plato’s ideal vision--
the unseen perfect version of our seen world. My submission
is to something that we know by feeling, and I think it must be said
that the traveling to find it cannot start by being dead.
Surely Poetry and Art are to be followed, as a creed;
they can be read and seen, and then, perhaps, believed.
Music is transcendent, call it the Flesh made Word--
not reserved for us in heaven, but here, on earth, is heard.
Nature is a Goddess; her work is the creation;
we strive to understand it, through rational “divination,”
using math and science, objective experimentation.
I have so many idols; I can’t limit adoration
to just one jealous God and his righteous indignation.
The Bible is a document that’s full of truth, I know;
but it was written a long, long time ago.
I’m keeping all my idols, for they soothe me and inspire me.
I’ll continue in my “lifestyle” of spiritual polyamory.
You may say I’m going to “Hell” for my sinful apostasy,
but I’m not afraid of the future grave,
for I’ll have lived with ecstasy.