Literature
God, the Universe and Us
God, the Universe and Us
by p.b. wells
It’s 3 a.m.
the world’s asleep or fucking or dying
and I’m sitting here
half-drunk on Admirals,
eyes still buzzing from another pass
through Hitchhiker’s Guide,
hat tipped to Douglas Adams
and to Superman for holding up his corner of the sky.
But the joke tonight is not the galaxy,
not the Vogons,
not the absurdity of towels or tea.
It’s God.
That supposed father figure
who loves us so much He lets us
bleed out in alleys,
slaughter each other in holy wars,
poison the only planet we’ve got
like pigs shitting in their own trough.
If He’s compassionate
why the cancer,
the babies born broken,
the lungs drowning in pneumonia,
the memories eaten by Alzheimer’s?
And don’t hand me that “mysterious ways” garbage
or I’ll smash the keyboard into your teeth.
Don’t preach “free will”
unless you want a fist in the softest thing you own.
I’ve asked priests, bishops, professors…
all of them mumbling,
treading water with words
