The iconoclast

may have the last say,


seems to have had his

or her day

and things move on,

but if God has truly gone

where does it leave me?

up a gum tree?

(well at least I may bag a



it's hard then to deny the denier

who would destroy with impunity


things that mean things to me

when the denier

is in here

(he said, tapping his chest),


is that clear?


We build so we can break

create an order to

make of it chaos

and what does that

make of us?


We sweeten things with saccharin

opium and heroin,

so stoned that we continue in

blind ignorance


I'm guilty your Worship

who weighs me off

with a caution

and again

I am a small fish

in a flamin' big ocean.


God can't help me

they pulled his statue down


erected a new town

called it Sodom,

fuck em'


I'll talk with God's grandmother
who sits knitting fireflies,  
eyes for the angels.
John Smallshaw

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