Tag: cosmic

God Is Neither This Nor That

God is a cosmic vending machine that dispenses whatever we want. He is a genie that grants us three chances to get revenge. He will not hold us from suffering. God will not hesitate to kill us if we do not listen to the frenzied singing of his various devils in our world.

Look around you. Do you see that red glint in the eyes of your lover? Do you see the steam rising from the hole in the ground? Do you hear the wolves howling at your front door? Do you think God is merciful? The last time I checked, God was eating away at my insides, and He whispered in my ear that he would tear my body to shreds and spit me out into the cosmic void.

God is part Rapture, a part Fiend. God is everything you don’t know, will never know, and can never know. The fear of the unknown, the churning disorder of your terror attacks. God is the most dreadful face you have ever seen. God is reading this right now and is planning his attack. God called me on the telephone and told me he hated me. God does not exist. God is everywhere. God is in the in-between spaces. God is a ball of fire. God is a murderous homeless man.

God is not this, nor is he that.

Thank God for this prayer. Thank God for the times you left home and didn’t go back. Praise God for the weeping of the saints. Let God know you love him every time he punishes you. Say a prayer for the meek that will inherit the alien planets, and then set fire to your house and dance on the ashes.

The Heavens Cry (a poem)

Angels sing, the heavens cry
Cosmic tears fall from skies
Colors burst, the world’s release
Sharing the taste of their impulses
Choir madness and moans
I see a galaxy hidden in the land
Galaxies grasped, then forgotten
Angels sing heavens cry
Cosmic tears fall swiftly
A melancholy, blue-tinted sky

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To Dream Away (a poem)

Now I lay me down to sleep, to dream away
Transported to underground realms
Dreaming in color, bright sounds
No longer astounded by the full-length movies
That play in my head at darkness

I decipher codes, break through modes
In which my inner eye tells me riddles
Prophecies of sudden global disasters
Screams and shouts from dark matter

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Floating, Weightless (a poem)

Screaming stopped, here in
black voids of deep space
floating, weightless, atoms being
torn apart –

they can’t hear me now, mission control,
cracked open without a trace
dying, shapeless, our bodies drifting
far apart –

Mission is complete,
alien intelligence secured –
artifacts like Rubik cubes,
touch them & they blow apart,
floating, weightless
consciousness survives –

we are stardust among red stars,
dark voids so spacious
becoming one with dark matter
of shapelessness –
floating, weightless
drifting far apart.

(Photo by NASA on Unsplash)