temple of god

stained. corrupted, rejected from a drifter searching for concrete, proof, validity, now and the maker plays not the games of creation, funny though that is how tall the tale is. look. the make shift is happening again, the chorus, the nods affirmations as to who god is. don't you see goodness in the many forms of the visible: carnal delight take it an octave higher. that's god. not blasphemy if your flock agrees. feels right - the candle is black, the fire darker i hear the shuffling sounds from the ancient graves - aha. they caught the web, spins the threads about. it is snapping. god in a toilet bowl flushed down if the reflection looks like turd. bow lower this almighty spirit when men do not follow the rules not to their liking. we've got better ones. and the temple is desecrated with angels twisted but the crowd have strange visions, with spirits of vices but the label says virtue. i guess when many say it is so, it must be. then i heard god laugh. because the dog thumped it's tail twice as hard on the ground. i know better.