(Featured photo by Nathania Tenwolde – with additional vote labour overlay)
I suppose it’s been a little while
Since we – ummmmm
I’ve said some things
You’ve said some things.
Well – actually you didn’t say anything
Because it turns out you don’t exist…
I didn’t mean it to come out like that.
Look. The situation is bad, okay?
Like we need Indiana Jones bad.
And – to be honest, I would’ve thought
That you’d have decided to intervene by now.
Unless we’re like some fucking ant farm science experiment to you
As you wander along
In your perfect little life
In the glowing dusky majesty of the heavens.
Listening to Amy Grant.
Which is another issue I’ll save for a different, less important conversation.
Because you really jumped the shark with that one.
I suppose this is funny to you.
Sitting there on a satellite,
Stroking your enormous cool beard.
Oh let’s face it
You fucked up
You let a fly into the teleportation device you were building
And it zapped together with a fucking monkey
Sprinkled it liberally over earth
And then just sat back hoping no one would notice.
And that doesn’t even consider droughts and monsoons
You’re kind of a dick.
I mean – just admit it.
Get the Pope to do a sorry dance or something.
I bet he’s a great dancer.
Mountains are good though.
The smell of grass.
So I suppose what I’m saying is,
You can’t be all that bad.
Because kindness is prevailing
It’s bubbling up
Like the carbon monoxide poisoning of love.
Infecting people’s hearts
Bringing them back from years of being frozen.
You’re probably really busy
I’ll keep this brief.
I have to go and break some things anyway.
Maybe drink a bottle of whiskey
And cry on a bus listening to Woody Guthrie songs.
In the interim – um,
Could you make Jeremy Corbin win?
I know that’s clearly not your MO
But we’re actually kind of desperate now.
I feel like we’re all extras in The Omen Part III.
And no one wants that.