National Poetry Month: Divinity Dust

Many people have asked me about the inspiration for this poem. All I can say is that you’ll find out next year upon publication of my memoir, The Good Girl, from Running Wild Press.

Divinity Dust

Here I am
on Imbolc
craving 10 grams
of God
and a fingernail full
of synchronicity.
Where are all
the dirty moments
of knowing real divinity?
God wrapped in foil 
and handed off
like a cracker?
It’s the diminishing dosages
that really get me.
I make my connection
each night
in dreamscape
only to find
God’s a jackal,
a roly-poly pervert
who leads you down
dark alleyways
so he can get you high
behind the dumpster
and fuck you in the ass…
I know, it’s crass
but I’m addicted
to miracles
and I need a fix fast.
So tie me up
and heat another teaspoon
of that divinity dust,
my angel,
pat my vein, and
with a prayerful prick
help me forget.

Silliness, Both Virtual and Venal

First of all, screw that silly LiveJournal strike. What a bunch of horseshite.

Second, I can’t believe the nonsense that continues over the so-called Shroud of Turin. It’s merely more evidence of how deluded human beings can latch onto a single explanation of something and pursue it to the frayed ends of reason. The BBC writer says, “The mysterious image of a crucified man has refused to lie down and die.” Please! Actually, it’s more like the cranks won’t lie down and die. They can’t come up with a single document — not one line of writing — that was contemporary with the supposed life of Jesus, but they have this mysterious “shroud” of the “historical Christ”? What next? The Toothpicks of Turin? The Toilet Paper of Turin?

Thankfully, there’s plenty of great work done on debunking this madness. Check out the article about the French scientists who created their own Shroud.

King Arthur: Go and tell your master that we have been charged by God with a sacred quest. If he will give us food and shelter for the night, he can join us in our quest for the Holy Grail.
French Soldier: Well, I’ll ask him, but I don’t think he will be very keen. Uh, he’s already got one, you see.
King Arthur: What?
Sir Galahad: He said they’ve already got one!
King Arthur: Are you sure he’s got one?
French Soldier: Oh yes, it’s very nice!

Glad to see the BBC, though, is on top of entertainment, if not science.

A Letter

Dear Evanglical Leaders,

I hope you noticed God’s Wrath striking the states that nominated your beloved Mike Huckabutt. I hope you’re ready to rain fire and brimstone on the poor unfortunate people who lost their homes and loved ones for supporting your jackass candidate who thinks people with AIDS should be rounded up like cattle and driven into isolation. Condemn, consternate and convict their spirits for the attrocity that is their voting record, while the rest of us sit heartsick for them and send aid.

Or, alternatively, admit your beliefs are unstrained bullshit geysering from Jesus-shaped cranial wounds in your heads.


A Thinking Person

Behold! The Flying Spaghetti Monster!

I did my Beeb bit.

To me, that felt like the most uneven of the three shows I’ve done. Things felt rather heavily tilted towards the theists weeping that atheists just talk too loudly these days.

The summary of my response to that was, “So what? Atheists have had to listen to the voice of theists turned up to ’11’ for centuries. Just because some atheists are speaking up loudly back, we’re all gonna cry now?”

Gobs of dumb. It was hard not to laugh at them. Actually, I did laugh at them. I fell on the bed, weeping with giggles when the professor of the divinity college said those atheists throw away all “the facts.” Then Kelly from the Rational Responders replied to Mr. Facts, “What facts are you talking about? Where are YOU getting your facts?” That was the best!

The most problematic moment was when Mr. Facts said his son had proof of God because a voice told him not to go into work at the Twin Towers that morning of the 9/11 attack. Okay, so what does that say about his son’s God who cherry picked certain people to die a horrible death that day? Proclaiming on international radio your son’s incredibly cruel, irrational God is somehow nicer than someone writing a book about the lack of evidence of any God whatsoever? I’m confused. Why would I be comforted by that anecdote? I’m not an atheist — more of a rational mystic — and I’m utterly horrified by this.

At one point, I took on something said by Terry Waite, ex-envoy of the Archbishop of Canterbury. Ooo!

I’ll post a link if the Rational Responders recorded it. I’m hoping that they did, given that Sapient recorded the Blasphemy Challenge show I did on WHYS back in January.

I need a rub down and people saying, “You did good that round, Rocky!”