untitled # 1
...then the God of America said:
"let us make woman in our own image."
And so, working backwards, we deduce that God is:
hairless, mostly, except on top;
with pouty, puffy red lips,
eyelashess long as sin and broad, birthing, bedroom hips;
except with children, at whom he screams
to vent the frustration of being used, by men, as a pleasure toy,
and a justification for war.
God is well-swayed, apparently, by our gaudy advertising,
and his most vital appendage
(the one we forced into his hand)
is a credit card, with which he tries to pay for what he cannot seem to earn:
real love -
because if it can't be bought and sold
and bragged about to your friends on the internet,
then it isn't really real now, is it?
Not as real as the God of America who,
despite all the best efforts of the screaming damned hordes,
is still writ large on coins and green paper rectangles,
here in America.