you can play god for a second.
And you're sitting down
because you don't need to stand up
to do anything.
And there will be a gardener
sweating and pulling up YOUR weeds,
and you will still be sitting there
watching, with slanted god eyes
unable to mask your cynicism
thinking to yourself
by god, they're out there
gardeners,
another world
they play god in,
growing shit,
fostering shit,
harbouring shit,
putting me to shame
because flowers don't protest
and vegetables don't stage uprisings.
The gardener isn't even sweating.
Yet pull and mow and grow
Yet pull and mow and grow.
And from god's window,
you're watching. Testing
the product, this humanity growing
things.
You could get pissed off
at being upstaged,
you could express rage
in broken humanity roadside
yet instead
you open god's window
and let Coltrane breathe.
7:29 AM
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