america’s hysterical hands drip blood a pointing finger uninward
the people scroll over bodies wet dreams of war
we want to believe we aren’t dying too and the joy is sad.
and the art is sadder.
when will we live, we think in words.
and i am a sound.
they tell me love is hard
work but why does it come
so easy? i haven’t clocked in
i don’t want this love to tire or go on strike for better wages
or lose itself in a bottle
at a lonely bar
i am tired of protest
everything here is a job
even love
and that is how i know
they have trained us to become what we loathe
to desire what disguises us
to be the executed and the executioner. i had a friend who had a friend
and they are no more. he was so busy being himself
he couldn’t try just being
for a change.
maybe if we market love like a selfie
or
maybe offer a stimulus package for feelings
we don’t allow ourselves to feel maybe then we can communicate
or at the very least
we can laugh at the hypocrisy
of our silly predicament insanity is the father of invention
he’s a rolling stone.
the christians are clinging to their god
more than ever before
rickety religions reveal rickety men
been there done that
i want a god no american can worship
i want a god who doesn’t want to be worshiped
who isn’t insecure or condescending
i want a god who doesn’t put borders around heaven
i want a god who smuggles souls pass patrol officers
sins seated in the trunk
of his four-door chest thundering down walls
i want a god don’t you?
we need something
something greater than ourselves there’s a whole lot of religion
and not enough god
to the god that shivers the leaves kisses the rivers
brings you to your needs
i want a god
don’t you?
something greater lives within ourselves
i want a god who returns prayers to sender
i want a god don’t you?
we need a god
who laughs with/at us
a god who loves