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No God Of Mine - 2021 edit

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[This poem 'No God Of  Mine' was 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 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

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




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Date: 11/4/2021 8:42:00 PM
Terry, this is such a creative and interesting idea and write! Wow! Enjoyed it very much.
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Terry Flood
Date: 11/5/2021 12:22:00 PM
Thank you PS. Praise indeed from a poet so skilled at the concise poetry forms. Glad you enjoyed. Terry
Date: 11/4/2021 3:31:00 PM
Wow what an epic Terry, I read the notes and headed here, I might have to go back and read them again though. As you said in your comments it was the foundation for a book, you should go for it. Tom
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Terry Flood
Date: 11/4/2021 4:07:00 PM
Ah, you must have caught me mid-edit. Hope you enjoy. Terry
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Terry Flood
Date: 11/4/2021 4:06:00 PM
Thanks Tom. I’ve now included the notes here too. I know you’ll be astounded by this, but outside of Soup, I know no-one who reads. As a result, I get zero feedback, good or bad, on my novels. Writing a novel, particularly the editing stage, is quite a task and incentive can be somewhat lacking if you never get to know what people like and what they don’t. BUT, I LIKE THEM… SO THERE!
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Tom Cunningham
Date: 11/4/2021 3:32:00 PM
No need they're above.
Date: 11/4/2021 3:29:00 PM
All comments below this were submitted before the poem was edited to include its notes. Hope that makes sense.
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Date: 11/4/2021 8:46:00 AM
Terry, I read the poem for the third time, and I am still pondering. May I make a suggestion? Why don't you put this poem into a BLOG and give us your commentary on it? It would be most helpful. There is so much here that I don't think I understand, so it would be good to have your take on it. Just sayin'
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Terry Flood
Date: 11/4/2021 1:34:00 PM
Just done exactly that. I’m flattered that you are interested enough to want to ‘get it’. Hope all will become clear. When I first wrote this, it was a kind of synopsis of a novel i hoped to write and, as I hadn’t found Soup, the only person who needed to ‘get it’ was me. By the time I posted it on Soup, I overlooked the fact that other people can’t see inside my head. Thanks for giving this mega write your time, Milt. Terry
Date: 11/4/2021 3:19:00 AM
I believe many of the older poems should be re-released for the very reasons music is. I'm so glad this poem got your 2021 treatment. I never got to read the original, but you are right Terry, the longer the poem, the more poems run the risk of becoming "The Great Unread". I don't profess to understand all that you have written but pick up themes of facades, behind the white picket fences, a rigged system, moral and financial corruption, negligence and just pure damned evil. A great poem, Terry
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Terry Flood
Date: 11/4/2021 3:42:00 AM
Hi Gary. Firstly thanks for reading. This was an idea for a novel which I never found time to write. The premise? Man finds ancient book… if you denounce your God at your time of passing, you become eternally that which you are in contact with. Nutter becomes the very fabric of a house… in which no one can live… for long. Kind of Stephen Kings Christine… but a house. See new photo. Terry
Date: 11/3/2021 7:43:00 PM
Wow, Terry, this is a tour de force. I will have to read it through again, very slowly, when I have time, so, I'm marking it a FAVE. Wonderful writing, indeed!
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Terry Flood
Date: 11/4/2021 1:23:00 AM
Thanks, Milt. Originally posted two or three years ago. Many views but no comments. Rearranged verses into a more chronologically logical order and changed a couple of words. Always been one of my own favourites, so I thought I’d give it another shot, although I know that such lengthy writes aren’t overly popular. Not too happy with picture… best I could do. Terry