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God Is A Gangster

I was twelve,
lying on my back in bed,
the first time it occurred to me that God did not exist,
the very thought was so terrible that I knew I couldn't share it,
I was clever enough even then not to utter such a blasphemy aloud.
Time went by, I watched my mouth,
the truth was that I was afraid,
the world seemed mad,
run by fools, by brutes,
grown men, stone-faced, dressed in costume,
invoking seraphim and holy war.
As for myself,
like everyone,
things unravelled bit by bit, year by year,
heart-break, failure,
terror whispering in my ear
"or else ...  or else..."
pain grabbed me by my throat,
pushed me up against a fence and sneered.
these days a golden calf will sometimes graze across my narcotic dreams,
bellow and rouse me from my mindless torpor,
and I will see again that I've gone mad as a shit house rat,
with a darting glance I will look into your eyes and shudder when I see Him,
the Archetype, the Patriarchal gangster, the one God.

20 Feb 18

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