My poem 'No God Of Mine' is seemingly confounding readers as to its meaning. Ordinarily, if I felt a poem wasn't cutting it, I'd delete it, but on this occasion, I've been asked to explain it... so here goes.
[By way of prologue, the picture is indicative of a discovered text/book which hints at the possibility of eternal life/existence.]
[The opening verses describe a genius but deranged inventor who having found the text/book builds a machine to manufacture building blocks into which he shall literally throw himself. This, when he denounces his God, shall bring him an eternal existence... in this case, within the very blocks his creation will create. His long term plan... not to haunt any house, but to be the house. To this end I had considered 'There's A House In My Ghost' as a title, but this poem was never meant to be funny, so that notion was ditched.]
1: The plan gets under way
A brilliant mind of malicious intent
Relinquishing life it's ire to vent
As genius schemes to steadfastly stand
The unwary stray shall succumb to his hand
2: The machine is prepared for use
Thought in advance and precision laboured
Set automatic, eternity savoured
No human hand shall guide the contraption
Though flesh of the wretched shall end it's inaction
Checked and adjusted, boxes all ticked
Nuts taut to torque, switches all flicked
Mechanised rumblings as levers engage
Hands upon ladder that aides vented rage
3: Mad inventor climbs to a height, spreads his arms, crucifix style, and swallow dives into his machine. Upon death (or after?) he denounces his God... as per the text/book
Foot over foot and hand over hand
Ascending the rungs to last mortal stand
Madly gaze down upon sick deprivation
No bullet or rope, but self maceration
A crucifix born of a sanity slide
Calmly steps forward, then over the side
Gravity grapples what no God dared grasp
No flinch, twitch or judder and no deathly gasp
Disease of the flesh and degenerate mind
Sliced, diced and grated, butchered, entwined
Ditch the mortality, grasp perpetuity…
Eternity born out of gory paternity
Multi toothed roller now mangling skin
Crushing the ribcage and organs therein
Rollers rotating the scarified giblets
Feeding the hoppers with pulverised tidbits
Vertebrae powdered as mouth falls agape
And brains splatter out as a well trodden grape
As mad mortal gloop is conveyed down the line
A voice issues loud, 'No God of mine'
No God of mine, I shall never pray
I shunned you before, I deprive you today
No God of mine and this is my way
My soul is my legacy... and it shall stay!
4: The remaining 'brick' ingredients are fed into the machine. Once made, these bricks are automatically stacked and the machine, when done, self cleans.
Cement, sand and gravel, blood, body and soul
Eternity bred from hell's darkest hole
Combine gruesome aggregates, hydrate the mix
Mould them and dry them, then stack up the bricks.
Machinery silent, rollers now stilled
No man shall know of the blood that has spilled
For sinister foresight meant nought would be seen
As auto clean jet-washers scour the machine
***
5: Much time passes and the machine and the neatly stacked bricks are discovered. In three further years a new luxury home, built from those very bricks, sees its first new owner, who promptly and inexplicably, kills his wife. The next owner inexplicably kills himself. Nobody wants to buy a house with such history, so it is rented... and Ted kills Doris.
Ivy and nettle, bramble and dust
Seized engineering, cobweb and rust
Time welded padlock stuck firm inside
Yet a size ten key creaks doors open wide
One thousand sunsets and as many dawn's
Executive residence bounded by lawns
A house made of seemingly made on-site blocks
Where watches don't tick and a clock never tocks
Local celebrity, game show winner
Washes up after a housewarming dinner
She drys a tumbler, he washes a knife
So smoothly to slip through the ribs of his wife
Fashion designer, top of his game
All that are trendy brandish his name
Life is as good as he ever dared hope
As he silently swings at the end of a rope
House hunters wary, everyone suffers
When marketability contacts the buffers
And nobody knew when they took on the rental
That Doris would die when Ted went mental
6: The jinxed house is demolished and it's rubble used in the construction of a new motorway... but its spirit is not finished...
None would consider malignant presider
But one death too many, the final decider
Demolish the bleakness that evil bestowed
Rubble now hardcore laid under the road
Opened to traffic that very first day
Motorists flock to this new motorway
Fatalities soar as good driver Wayne
Does a handbrake turn in the outside lane
7: In true 'Hollywood' style, a cleric figures things out and convinces the powers that be to banish the evil materials into space.
Finally figured the evil foundations
Lecturing NASA and United Nations
Scholar and cleric share grudging handshake
No media present for sanity's sake
8: The primary (logical) cause of the Challenger space shuttle disaster was an o-ring of a design that hadn’t been tested below fifty degrees. But hey... it’s Florida, right? That fateful night before the launch, the temperature went through the floor. That o-ring became brittle leading to its subsequent failure.
Convey sick damnation to safe outer space
Challenger writ upon stark carapace
For every contingency, no expense thrifty
And sometimes the mercury drops below fifty
Brittle components barely discussed
But what dragged the mercury into the dust
A sinister presence with deeds set to do
Count seventy two, then the whole thing blew
9: The mad inventors malignant madness goes global
Precipitation; ash, fire and dust
Wind blown evil, as gust follows gust
Devilish snowflakes that settle at will
Malignant fulfillment of a mind that was ill
Anyone still reading? I thank and salute you... hope all is now clear.