Mist and pine needles invade my senses
 Concrete beneath my feet is painted
With forest feathers
Some still dancing in the winds…

                                                                              The weather
                                                                               Is
                                                                               Perfect
                                                                        

                                                             I realize the sudden ejaculation
                                                                        Of holiday adornments
 
Tis the fucking season…

The earth is shedding many shades,
She’s dying
The Sun will soon be crucified
Soon to rise
Again…

My fingers graze the wet, rigid skin
Of the deep brown tree
Whispering
At me.

   She
Is
         Perfect

I marvel, how the earth has been martyred
Personified
To justify
So much…
Stupid
 S
H
I
T

“Jesus Christ!”

…The words are drowned, suffocating in the mist

An ironic smile paints my face
As a Christian “ What is the true meaning of Christmas”
Pamphlet
Pukes at me
As to why one story is better told than the other
Why a fat man is stealing a martyr’s thunder

I bite my tongue
So hard
I taste hatred and steel
For the smiling assholes
Who recite their rhetoric
As they vomit mechanical tradition

I nod and smile…
Not out of kindness
But because
I fight the urge to scream
To be vulgar
To be perverse
To be
A
         Perfect
            Example
 ( True daughter of the Earth)

I allow them their crutch; their religion
I dare not mention
Egyptian pagan
Tradition
Doing so would corrupt their cycloptic tunnel vision
Would make them
So
                 “Imperfect…”
(And would make me an asshole)

I sigh as they leave in their joy to the world strut
( I’m almost envious )

I mutter
“ Jesus Christ! Its just a happy fat guy with presents. Who gives a flying fuck!”

I open the pamphlet and
John 3:16
Is bolded
( They recycle the same damn verses over and over)
I’m almost ashamed I can recite every word

But why murder the hope
Of those
Who are perfectly content
Deafened…

Oblivious to Earth
And Her other
Forbidden Dimensions




       -Kelly Lynn Noll

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