GODS TRUTH

This ionic liquid laconic cadence,

Limber in gesture's germinations,

coeval to the rhetoric of redemption,

imbricates exclamation's subliminal ideology,

into a cartography of impassible simlicity,

responded to in ironic iconic impenetrable prose.

I am unbreakably broken, sifting in the redeemers deeming,

expiating the recourse of nations,

into the wild whirlwind twister,

firestorm grey sky.

Force of concrete observation,

echoning canons of nature's thunderous texts,

appeasing the cosmography,

designed to bind universe to theory.

Somewhere in the rift between science and perception,

admonishes hope, the salience of proprioception's cognitive difference,

happenstance falls into the casternation of conscription's whim.

Fallen from graceless prayer, redundantly presciently pursued,

with a God whose job it is to be a complaint call center,

responding with a blissful stare, A universal start up,

whose selling of eternal joy,

is only at the cost of avoiding eternal suffering,

I feel conned, but I go along.

They're too dangerous, these infants,

They assure the death of Gods,

in the name of reviving myth,

born of their *mythogony's chance origination,

a symbolic kill switch,

in the fertile bias of a mind assuming the assumptions of the aeons,

paraded as God's Truth.

(*MYTHOGONY meaning the origin of mythological expressions.)

Poem and image © 2016 Peter Kaleb Theodoropoulos aka Rockwell Wilder