Quesque c’est, Mon Dieu!
Regarde le posse,
Crusaders of the Night,
Sniffing out multiple mysteries,
While fornicating at campsites.

God is pure emotional bunk,
Vibrating under a sea of junk.
What made you cum?
What made you cum?

You have fucked your brethren.
To what did you cleave?
Hardly imaginary giant squid,
Baffled by the waves and the sea.

Lunging forward,
Into materialization now,
You have been grossly mislead.
You are the jitter cow.

You are the reformers,
Before the Reformation.
Behold bovine deportation,
Retrocausal indignation.

You are the almighty jitter cow,
Fishing off starboard bow.
Did you hear the Almighty call?
I can see Him atop the hill,
Doing his best to stall.

Please excuse God.
He is almost deaf.
He cannot hear you,
At the moment of your death.

When God goes unnoticed,
No one can hear Him.
No one can think Him.
Our Lord hides clandestine letters,
In the turrets of makeshift towers.

Tubal sugarcane thinking,
Juicy stalks and soft rinds,
Focused on the sweetness of the Lord.
Through the act of awareness,
We somehow cause His glory,
To shine upon us untoward.

Stop thinking too much.
Accept things just as such.
Close the Book of Interpretation,
Embrace the spirit,
Of rehabilitation.
Nothing is ever really over.

Listen, ballers.
Dey in da wind
Mere thing becoming,
Having fallen out of sin.

Expectorant coughing cup,
Catches phlegmatic flash friends,
Scattered in hazardous interrupt.
Intercept! Intercept!

Conspiratorial dissemination,
A call to darker inclinations.
Author of my clever ruse,
God gave me this life,
To physically abuse.

Don’t expect the cosmos,
To understand the mismos.
She forgets on purpose.
Skating on the surface.

Your genetic gearbox,
Comes directly from the ground.
From electric path to heavenly sound,
I am a son of Shiva.

I aspire to emerge with speed,
Into God’s most impish seed,
An extension of His lustful lingam.
That’s howz I sing ’em.

About the Author: Joshua Tree be Charleston born, a child of the Lowcountry raised with dolphins in pluff mud and sand, a modern storyteller with an eclectic hand. He practiced law in Manhattan and Los Angeles, but never perfected it. His fictional work of stanzas and prose is a rhythmic syncretism of Hindu, Shaivite, Tantric, Baptist and Anglican influences coupled with psychotropic enhancements to a polymorphously perverse imagination. He is the author of “The Attis Paradox: How To Die and Become a God”, a love story of homoerotic magical realism set on Folly Beach and based upon the ancient Roman mythology of Attis and Cybele. His blog posts appearing on Google Plus have attracted nearly 400,000 views. Josh has a calling, to explore the psychology of desire without fear or shame.


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