Gory glory gods
gods Are scary deities, I believe They smite with steel rods And for reprieve Prop you up in thorns Demanding for expiation and atonement They have never given man any peace Or some release. Sister, Your gods of wealth and money. Do you rattle them with the jingle of coins? Or glue notes to their faces for favours, for bribes, For fashion, for beauty? Mother, Habituation has its own gods. What sound, what scent, Aroma and odours arouse the ones you serve in your many addictions? Food? Sex? Alcohol? Children? Odds. Father, How do you conceive your deity? Mortal, immortal, visible o’ invisible? Molten or graven? Wooden? Stone? Or spruced up with paints on canvas? The morning fog or the mountain steam, indefinable. Written, typed on scripts their names ineffable Their power invincible, destructive but Highly indestructible. Or do you find the idea of one repulsive – understandable? Brother, What fancy place do you