Is God A Vending Machne, A Juke Box?

is God a vending machine, a juke box?

you put your quarters in and

expect a reply

ice cold, candy crunched, potato crisped

the right song only and if not,

something gets kicked.

and the multifoliate coloured clouds

still give no rain so they complain

His gem starred light malfunctions

and in the breezeways through

His emeralds scatter

the winds over the plains.

He hears the broken refrain:

open the screen doors

all the windows you can

and breathe it all in

or watch it blow away and

try to understand if

it's  your fate to be, only utility utilized:

a vending machine, a juke box all aglow

in tubular neon pink and green

a something on the scene

or not at all.

what lies under leaves, or snows.

a flick of the wrist on a kaleidoscope

grown old,

a something kicked?

Ask Him.

He knows.

mary angela douglas 1 september 2014