Speck

Talk about God?
Well now, let’s see,

the God that’s in you
is the Devil in me --
forgive me my
apostasy,
but a dot for an i
is the Cross to a t.
When the black and the white
have no in between,
no room for a lie
to be plainly seen,
for all is truth,
can’t tell you it’s not;
“Why was this left out?”
“What’s that you’ve got?
Give it here, I’ve a need to be warm this night
and your differing views gave me quite a fright,
so I’ll burn all your witchery,
don’t try your switchery
Socratic tactics on me.”

But God?
I don’t know --
He seems like he might
have it right
every now and again.
I just doubt that he’d see
me if I were to be
what you want:
just a speck,
just a mote,
just reciting by rote
all the words that you shove down my throat.

God is bigger than you
and He knows what He’s doing.
Just because I’m eschewing 
all the values you cherish,
don’t believe I will perish
in the fires
that are licking
ever closer
while you’re picking
tiny details
from your shiny patent shoes.
What a shock, you might be the one to lose,
having thrown all you’ve got
in the wrong bloody lot
without thought,
all for naught --
well, I hope you like it hot.

You know what
God hates the most?
(As does his mate, the Holy Ghost)
Putting words in His mouth,
saying this, saying that
makes you look some kind of twat.
You don’t know that your prophet
was not indeed for profit
and idolatry was not
just cutting market shares,
so now his wares
are uncontested
and the laurels are well rested,
work is done,
God is One,
you have won the Holy Grail
but self-righteousness will fail
in the face of the Maker
and his holy undertaker
as he sees that your soul, while it still seems to be whole,
has been morphed into something less than sod,
and its filth stains the ground as Hosannas ring around
and you face the full fury of your God.