An Atheist’s Prayer on Election Night – a poem

(Featured photo by Nathania Tenwolde – with additional vote labour overlay)

Sooooo….

I suppose it’s been a little while

Since we – ummmmm

Talked.

 

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…

                Oh

                      Shit.

                               Sorry.

I didn’t mean it to come out like that.

 

Look. The situation is bad, okay?

Really bad.

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

The taliban

Gnats .

 

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.

Jolly.

 

Mountains are good though.

And gorillas.

Crunchy bars.

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.

 

Anyway –

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.

 

Yours Sincerely?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s