Today god feels like an exclusive country club
with stiff entrance fees,
secret requirements
and mysterious restrictions
I know,
I’m supposed to conjure images of myself
significant enough to deny my insignificance
and call them all god
But for all the difference gandi made
the british would have left anyway
and
We still kill each other
watch children starve
knock people to the ground, kick them, call them faggot
And stone women.
all in the name of GOD
I’m sorry
I don’t feel like conjuring today
My illusions
haven’t worked out lately anyway
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem