IF GOD WAS A POET

If God Was A Poet

Literature would not be the holy bible,
Nor the creed on which prayer is said.
Churches would be human,
And poem would live.
Poet would be eternal.
The voice of Isaiah resurrected from the dead,
And on Mary’s garment stanza would be printed.
If God was a poet,
Lively songs sang would recite,
The Harlem dis –
Proportionate spirit of blacks.
That grave dead corpse would be RACISM.
Thanksgiving would however walk,
As a fourteen-year old alter boy.
It would carry message from book to eyes,
And forever rhyme would detonate,
On sinner’s heads.

If God was a poet,
Mind would talk.
Of miracles rhythmic of words and power -
As the twelve tribes enter the Red Sea.
Their feet clustered out like forks of fire.
Bible would remold,
Into the poem which is rotten and loud.
Angels would be people,
Riding buses every hour and insulting the bus driver.
Their wings would be the fifty-dollar note.
This, they would use to fly above others.

If God was a poet.
Person would never die.
Prostitutes would be Noah’s Ark.
On the curious multifarious pump-
Known as man.
Or the hidden sixteen inch AK47 – the penis.
However, UN would remain,
As that finale in a poem,
That has promises.
However, NATO would die
And on the third day die again.

The velvet nails poetry
Would succumb to sexual Revelations
Unlike all humans,
Life would not be a dunghill struggle.
Pens used would be fingers.
And ink, blood.
Paper would be person.
Xenaphone temples of blue.
Would change to red, with Rushdie’s orders.

If God was a poet,
The poem would never have recital Easter,
Nor the poet, Christmas.