Gods own people
Walk in gowns of gold
They have space and air and time.
They have certainity and continuity and gyms.
the story of their lives has meaning,
purpose
and quality is woven in thier skin
Thier kitchens are blessed
Insense stained and organised.
Everthing happens for a reason
They say
They pray
To god
And he answers
(like james mason)
These are Gods own.
The titles role
Deus ex machina!
“your Misfortune shows my favour”
And we sit outside the gates
Looking in, the wages of sin.
Perfume as they pass
Down wind
shot in the dark karma
Scavenging on faith
And eating guru spit for grace
God’s people didactic minds of fire. I am Educated beyond my artificial intelligence.
Rhetorical gin and tonic
On cucumber lawns.
Why me? they muse in their sacred art.
But im away behind
the burning bush.
Earning my punishment
Exiled from Eden
Inexcapably inculcated.
Singing ‘not this, not that’
Exasperated by vivisection
Ruskin Mill Trust. from iPhone
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