of a damned good girl

Posted in nothing special by maggie on 2010/02/07
of a damned good girl

the morning to get religion came careening so carelessly correct
one thousand two hundred some miles from street level down
still not yet sleeping it off, so even the chicken nuggets taste
like thick black coffee, would you like me to take the wheel?
and my patron saints don't want me doing two things at a time
so i keep on finding the sting of coffee in sacred words behind
holy service in sacrifice so complete god comes down again
and again and again without being asked but just as much
at home, just as much as if i'd perform the same act twice
on the same disciple with just as much attention to detail
as if there were only one of his kind of god around and as if
he were lord over everything he might chance to get credit
for making up and at least right now tomorrow could be a repeat
even if i'd been saved up again, would you command me to kneel?
and my priest guys don't want me getting converted too much
perhaps or maybe have a prisoner trade in mind or some deal
that might get them written up in the myths already swirling
like magic brew over my tongue and against my teeth and down
swallowed hot and hard and heavy just like release from sin
is supposed to feel like shooting out of control straight up
the most willing parts of the soul shot like pure espresso
and i'm all his, god's, whoever's, would you expect me to feel?
then my confession does a backflip off between three and four
after i've accepted another cigarette to chase more coffee down
and since these evangelist friends have gone out of their way
to have me along awake the whole way knowing what fits where
in god's grand design behind the cut and deal, i did miracles
turning water to coffee and making coffee walk on water and
getting the coffee to go far enough for everyone and even
breathing new life into the coffee one last stretch through
to the address i've known was coming since in the beginning
as verily as if god's own god'd created it first and last
and it went forth and multipled and i got the worst of it,
got it bad, would you care to watch while i strip and heal?
but your prophets'll make room for you, they don't seem easily
jealous when it comes to visions, besides they like me this way
so damned jacked up on their joe i don't mind being so moved
by your spirit and i don't mind the one-way direction down
your stairs and i don't mind the threat of it being forever
and i don't mind the penance i owe and i don't mind the rites
and i don't mind the names i'll be called and i don't mind
the ceremonies dipped in your blood and your flesh and i
surrender, no questions asked, so my morning to get religion 
brings me back to you, my god, courtesy of a hell of a lot
of coffee and a random act of pure madness by an ancient carful
of seriously moral virtuous reverent god-fearing upright men
with me there like i've been sent and the coffee is heaven
and i am all yours, my god, for when you wake up and find out
i made it here like you knew, like you said all along, here
like it's easter early, would you come again should i reveal?

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2 Responses

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  1. Fantasia Lillith said, on 2010/02/07 at 21:07

    most willing parts of the soul shot like pure espresso

    loved that …. I’ve seen the reference before but placed this way it stood out for me.

    • lady maggie said, on 2010/02/08 at 15:14

      was like twenty hours straight for me going one way then another twenty coming back down off the coffee on nothing but what i came back to, and good to see you again and i’ll be over to catch up – lm

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