Propaganda

All this talk about God!
And how I once believed I could
touch Him;
touch His lips,
dance with him...

And what is this angel
singing from my stereo...
And my lover asking me
"Does God exist?"
And her mother dreaming of our sins?

All this talk about living and dying...
I thought I was living,
but I was dying
in a religious conspiracy
and moral propaganda.

Now my regard for that institution
is reduced to joking with my brothers
that "drinks are on dad",
as he serves communion.
And that I won the "down downs".

No, it is not God I mock,
unless you're referring to the man made one;
the image of our creator synthesized
to control our free spirits.

If honesty and passion makes me a sinner
then give me more
hell, fire and brimstone.
I will survive.
For I have found my God
and followed his footprints
into the most fascinating crevices
of society.

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