PSIPOOK | poetry korner | evan hay | god
|In the beginning there was a poem about a God:
In His once upon a time was His happy ever after.
Emerging from the chrysalis of His own potentiality
He stood, immaculately conceived, topfilled to bright brim with youthful
Like a March calf amongst the buttercups
At the solid base of His consciousness-
And there He waited, panting with desire, while deep in His
Fiery bowels, time chugged & giggled
Bashful as a firing squad in love, and explodes....
His heart, that vast pumping plant of light and space,
Flinging reality spinning outward to its bounded infinity....
In the first moments before knowledge of God and Devil, claws & defect,
Before the fall of original incompetence
He stands, insanely beautiful, as bright and brainless as an orgasm,
Blood erecting His crumpled form, the translucent membranes
Of his quadrifid ears stiffening into divine shapes...
They beat the air, and a terrible wind arises,
Billowing through the age of inertia,
Beating clouds of mathematics from His trouser cuffs,
And the sun shines out of His bottom.
He raises His head, His teeth chatter, His toes curl, His tail frisks-
And He speaks!
Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmm, he says,
Clearing His throat of polystyrene and bubblewrap,
Let there be such a thing as a Heap! And a Drawback!
Let there be Fragrances and Destinations! Herbs and Hubs! Inflorescences and Osculation's!
Mountains Fountains Indignations Mice Coronas Hippopotami and and
LET THERE BE ME!!!
With a hop skip and a jump He ascended
Into the primordial haze of the purple skies
Flying for joy.
(Happiness was God's natural element
And today was the beginning of His end).
Aeronautics created He then: the Barrel Roll and the G-Turn
The Scissor the Split S and the Immelmann Manoeuvre
The Jink the Aerlion Roll and the Victory Loop,
And then God turned downwards and from the superfluity of possibility
He created the Out of Control Nosedive.
He saw the base of His consciousness beckoning His descent
And He saw that it was good.
He saw antelopes' gracile scatter over the spilling pampas
The mountains' crumpled satin spines
The wildly beautiful spread of everything
The widening darkness of His own shadow rising to fill
The horizons cup
And it was at this point that He created doubt
And second thoughts
Fear and trembling, disillusionment and despair
Also seemed like good ideas,
Irony, art, metaphysics and religion also occurred to him
Just in time to be too late
As he hit the last line of the poem
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