[deus in absentia]
[lyrics: woodley]


scribble ineffectively, try to forge a canon
crucified on a cross of wit: ironic nails ran in.

pray that nemesis forgets all my swearing to heaven.
i stand a holy ghost of achance (truth, for once, unleavened.)

god who knows why god's so keen for pop trash on the silver screen,
while I watch from the mezzanine like thomas to the Nazarene.

good god. nice god. deus in absentia.

the groupies lured to galilee should give it up
and pine for me with all my mediocrity, my artificial buoyancy.

one and one and one is four, if you count the shapeless lord
who kicks the rungs from your rewards: an overarching underscore.

cracking, over-reacting or am I just lacking something inherent,
omni-apparent, the dangling carrot?
celestial wisdom, where can I get some?
where is the system of instant devotion, praise and promotion
by whore and theologian? one half says Mecca, the other Tribeca,
but strangely I echo,
as if my collection of questions is empty as heaven must be.


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