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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/560810-Gods-Arse-the-poem
Rated: 13+ · Book · Biographical · #1317094
Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills.
#560810 added January 13, 2008 at 5:51pm
Restrictions: None
God's Arse (the poem)
God's Arse

He shat on barren rock,
a million microbes swimming in the stench.
For millions of years they cleaned up the mess,
slowly coalescing into us,
the progeny of shit and piss,
the effluent of God's sweet ass.

And so we played the games
of little gods and goddesses,
tasted honeyed waste with forking tongues,
arms flailing, voices wailing supplication,
saw mirrored deep in our shit-brown eyes,
the awesome Face of God.

© Kåre Enga 2008 [164.460] 2008-01-12

IMAGES:

Scent of pine; descent of sun, long shadowed winter; snow compacted into ice hidden under sand and dirt, encased like baked Alaska.

NEWS:

Addiopizzo. As in goodbye Sicilian pork pie, Mafia style. Finally, locals have banded together to say no to the Mafia's 2% tax (pizzo).

Now if they could only expand the concept to certain U.S. cities! Do not be lulled into thinking the Mafia (Black Hand, Cosa Nostra ...) in its many nefarious forms is not alive and doing well in America. Where there is illegal money to be made, they are aware. They also have gone legit in controlling governments and businesses.

This website comes up in Italian but translates into various languages (including Dansk och Svenska!):

http://www.addiopizzo.org/

And then, changing the subject, there is Soulja Boy, who at the age of 17 has taken the YouTube Nation by storm with his hip-hop macarena and music.

If you are old like me, google him and learn. All the teenagers know his dance moves.

http://www.souljaboytellem.com/

I'm at Z's talking to a teacher who brought him up. She continued with a comment about Flocabulary, which is a reworking of traditional stories into current urban speech and music. Go here: http://flocabulary.com

ME:

Slept in again. Everyone else did too. I made mac-n-cheese and a melange of chopped chicken breast, cream of chicken soup, mushrooms and baby peas. Wonder if they-all will eat it? I left at 1:30 while they were still getting the sleep out of their eyes.

Downtown last night for a brief time; out at Z's for a short period today.

Entering this on my laptop. It has a spell check that the library computers don't. Since I'm not great at typing, not even good, it really helps.

Of course, it wouldn't prevent me from mistyping Albert for Alfred like I did yesterday (mea culpa, mon ami). Brain farts are expected at my age, but they still worry me.

I've been bored, but that doesn't mean I can visit Blogville. To do that I have to have an internet connection. And I don't at home. Increasingly, that becomes an issue to being in touch. People increasingly assume that folks have cell-phones, e-mail, IM, computers, et cetera. Many poor folk don't and some older people wouldn't know what I'm talking about. Fortunately, I remembered to call my mother and aunt yesterday. They have old fashion phone connections.

Kansas: 36º and sunny bright.
1738

© Copyright 2008 Kåre Enga in Montana (UN: enga at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Kåre Enga in Montana has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/560810-Gods-Arse-the-poem