I am scared sometimes in empty rooms
not certain why maybe it’s the ghosts
of my history silently floating clouds
old haunts old guilt old miseries.
I am uncertain about hereafter,
heretofore, hereby, and here
it confuses me to think somewhere
in the dirt of my grave will be an angel.
Do you understand the Armageddon
the burning ring of fire Johnny Cash
whistled in the shower with June
July and August somewhere in the background?
Eternity seems to be immeasurable
in terms of finite and infinite math
Jesus played baseball for St. Louis
God built a damn somewhere in Idaho.
Evangelicals run it all someone declares
Pope Benedict polished his silver hammer
I’m lost in this manmade universe called heaven
who ratted on Moses and his Red Sea magic?