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Godeville
or

Living with Cthulhu

Dreamed 2013/9/1 by Wayan

THAT EVENING
Sunset. I'm on a carrot quest
under fluorescent magenta sky.
A bumper preaches COEXIST
by the mart. I guess even cynical I
wouldn't pick NOEXIST. But by
the library a man yells at us passers-by:
"Christ alone is true! You unbelievers will
drift rudderless to death, then burn in hell!"
What a snob. The sin of pride! But then,
Church doctrine, not this angry man,
committed that unoriginal sin.
Yet our red-lit ranter enacts the rude
script: complicit in the spew. Poor
Earth so urgently needs more roar
and fingerpoint and sneer.
Don't you?

THAT NIGHT
On a cafe stage, left-right, stony archways rise to a height
Giant-fit. Or will they? We'll soon see. "Aaaaaand now,
ladies and gentlemen--your Creator and mine--" spotlight
left--"Heeeeere's Yahweh!" Full three meters tall (six cu-
bits for Noah; ten feet for Iowans) and electrically thun-
derbolted (safety off, too!)--Mister Universe flexes one
oiled omnipotent thew. I better convert to Bronze-Age Jew
or will a hellfire Christian do?

The emcee adds "And now... Zeus, the Ruler of Heaven!"
and a second lightning-god glides out, quite as big,
quite as butch (nay, butcher). Olympic pig.
Rape and adultery's incarnation! Not a family show--
he ominously ogles that boy in the front row.

"Aaaaaand now! The Great Goddess, Mother of us All".
Hips roll. Almond eyes look down. If I must adore,
I'd endure her best. But I hope more playful animal
gods wait in the wings--Bast, Raven, Hare. No. Out pour
more Old World nobodaddies, crackling static. Mere
mirrors of big men. Tedium, bearded drear.

But every and each gets the drumroll speech,
as if unique. Trots out, basking in our light
and then quick-shepherded offstage right--
Giants in minute acts. Swift as Vaudeville,
But only acts of God. I'm trapped in Godeville!

Godeville hides a worm in its heart:
Be-head, de-tail the holy Name--
A peel reveals the Devil's in between.
At last one animal god appears--a devil squid
Too vast for the arch; must manifest
out in the back patio. Sprawls and spills!
Gorgon-ugly, Godzilla-big--octentacled,
dragon-spined. Ugh. I already detest
the mad cult who loved (or crafted) that.

Now Godevillish promoters plunk me down
in wild desert hills, there to COEXIST
a few days with Cthulhu. Oh, I unconsent
to their bleak experiment! Yet here I am.

Survival's endless work. Just dodging God.
Could flatten me and never feel the squish.

This brutal Holy Land abounds in only stone.
Poor cover. Rabbit-scared, I skitter and cower
beneath boulders. Thus I survive alone
three tentacle-slams and a slimy shower.
Sure, vigilance succeeds! Hour on dreary hour.

The slippery thing meets a slithery twin.
They mate like horny hills. Slob gods
whose fluids ooze till my arroyo floods
in puke-green sludge. I'm thigh-deep in
ichor divine. Ick! And there I wake

Growling "Godspew makes me sick."
Wish I could be politer, politic...
But here in our fundamental time
Aren't you tired of getting slimed?

Desert hills. I hide under boulders from a Cthulhu, a green spiny squidlike monster. Dream sketch by Wayan.
NOTES IN THE MORNING

LISTS AND LINKS: religion - Christians - fanatics and fundamentalists - weird dream beings - gods and goddesses - theatre - humor - monsters - octopi and squid - size matters - experiments - self-defense - swimming & drowning - nightmares - shamanic dreams - puns - dream poems - Palestine - a 2nd vaguely Lovecraftian dream: Owl & Cheese

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