Sunday, February 08, 2009

My God is Not

Look, just because I don’t sit in chapels singing hymns, or eating your cracker and wine does not mean I am not in line with the divine for I know God! And do not mistake my tranquility for fragility for I can explode indignantly righteous you see I choose silence as my weapon in these treaties we sign secretly with reality in search of peace but I know of nihility and when pushed I’ll scream because I don’t know your God that you seek to push on me informing me you will pray for me so mercifully trying to save me from an eternity of my own doing…

...Man, fuck you! I don’t need your arrogant saving and pushy praying reaching out to me in the name of salvation so long as I voice his proclamation whilst my hands throw down a donation to maintain his creation, but trust me I know the real God and I know the real creation and I know the real beauty of my divination…

And excuse me, but it wasn’t my God that held my hair when I was small child and taunted me to cry while holding a bowl in my face for that salty tear soup. It wasn’t my God that beat up my sister while my mother made me watch. It wasn’t my God that bruised my ass cheeks with a hair brush or called me a pussy and made me walk to school with a broken foot.

It wasn’t my God that told all those kids to make fun of me because I was poor and dressed funny or think of me as weak because I chose not to speak because my mind was still tweaked by the pink welt on my back from the night before last or the three hours of screams I heard the night before that until a bottle went through the window like BLAT!

It wasn’t my God that jumped me four on one in the playground or molested my best friend. It wasn’t my God that made my aunt starve herself to death or my uncle blow his brains out or forced a sixty year-long bottle of whiskey into my other uncle’s mouth. It wasn’t my God that put a taboo baby into my mother’s belly or told my grandfather to cheat on his wife or told my sister to get knocked up at sixteen, oh well that's just life, right?

It wasn’t my God that told my girlfriend to abort our child without telling me or my God that convinced my best friend to sell his ass to forty year old men for drug money and it wasn’t my God that told the cops to set up my other friend so they could ship his ass off to the pen for the state to collect tax dividends.

Nor was it my God that had me drop out of school to stop the people who wrote fag on my back, who throw tampons at me, who made fun of me for being the child abuse boy, who had girls come up and smack me, who in groups of three would beat the shit out of me.

It wasn’t my God that handed me the bottle the first time, or the pills, or the cocaine, or the heroin, and especially not that goddamn acid. It wasn’t my God that handed me the razor blade or cigarettes to burn myself with. It wasn’t my God who told that motherfucker to put a shotgun to my face. It wasn’t my God that killed my friend’s dad in his forties. And it wasn’t my God that robbed my cousin’s house or raped my other cousin in an alley.

Oh, and it sure as fuck ain’t my God that tells me as long as I buy nice things from Nike, Sony, and Abercrombie that shit will all go away. See, my God did not give 200 people the same amount of money that the poorest 3 billion people on this planet have so they can wipe their ass with a tuft of silk just because they can while third world babies rot amidst maggots, mosquitoes, cadavers, and the bleak hope of a mad lord who cast hordes of poor castes in the outlands to return with open hands to smite those packs of clans that pass out rations to the starving in the name of compassion who trade in their God for your religious fascism that fashions hunger relief second to baptism

Nah see, My God gave me the strength to rise above all this shit and to not give in and to raise my chin and embrace my skin and love my kin despite all the fucked up things they did. My God drops snowflakes of sunbeams on my back and touches my heart with insight into this chaos and that’s compassion because we all need the same thing.

We all want peace; it's that great struggle to hold that happiness that feels so true, authentic, and deep like your feet stuck in a bucket of concrete love never-ending, just be.

See, My God crawls across sunrise morning like great flaming ivy on the walls of the Universe and dabs an empty blue sky with the softest white cloud you’ve ever seen (at just the right time), or in joy brings tears to your eyes, and washes even the cruelest moments in the sheen of a dream unlocked like Tupac who saw the rose growing from out the sidewalk and in that moment stood the real God…

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