he. she. me. we.

society.

inside termite-wood houses,
we bless our mundanity.
give us a playboy and a beer
and call it our own means of genesis.

                                  (we are no martyrs.)

he.
she.
me.
we--
all of us a thousand smiling projections
of the acne-scarred face of god.

let us breed, let us permeate,
and just know that we exist,
we simply are,
and curse the day our heavenly "father"
piled dirt and mud into a wretched mountain
and decided to call it a sandcastle.

Author's Note

I've been writing a lot of the angry God poems lately. Here's one I wrote in Chemistry.

Reviews

[Fred Hampton]

I especially like the last three lines. Very nice.

[Blue Moon Ice Cream]

I especially like the thought of us being "a thousand smiling projections of the acne-scarred face of God." That's the best description of human imperfection that I have ever read.

[ju]

it's a brilliant poem. really like the sandcastle image. so many good lines, working well together.

[Elena]

This is amazing! Something really raw, yet still objective.

I really enjoyed it. I love your style!