The Art of Looting Heaven

I have been struggling rather, of late, and it shows. My apologies for this rather pathetic effort.


THE ART OF LOOTING HEAVEN

I sat down, and the first thing that I thought
was that I think in sparks and moments,
and if I swallowed up a firefly
he'd likely find a friend inside my skull.

Don't you ever wonder how it works?
As if to every man the gods gave but
five words of beauty in their lives,
and deep inside our hearts we scrounge and scape
to try and stretch them out across the years;
as if at 3a.m. Almighty God
is spinning decks and playing tunes,
and artists have a pint of poster paint,
illuminating gospels in the rosy hours -
how shallow they lie, our texts; how heretic-bright.

If only Bibles were a conversation
from a holy Muse that men could love;
monologues lie cruel like dust-shrouds on Simoni,
fig leaves crushing David where he stands,
the Psalter scattered to the earth
like poisoned hallelujahs - we are salt,
and if the salt has lost its saltiness
to whom will academic God cry out?
The Song is like a knell,

for we have stolen unawares the key
from Simon's palsied grasp, and even now
the tree of life is stripped and bare,
her leaves the pages of a million books
of frenzied celebration at our skill;
the trump of God resounds, a slow blues scale
in homage

to the art of looting heaven.

Whoa. That is awesome. Plain and simple. Only thing I could see, was 'the trump of God resounds'

I think thats meant to be trumpet.

Nevertheless, this was just awesome.

Whoa. That is good. Seriously good.

Cutting that last phrase off from the previous stanza really interrupted the flow as well as the pattern of not dividing sentences between stanzas (except between two and three, but I'll address that later). Was that done to make that line important? To create some sort of tiny, suspenseful pause? That may have been misguided. Have it on its own line, but keep it with the stanza.

I adore the first stanza. Although not quite the same in meaning or tone as the others, it was whimsical and drew me in. One question: it begins: "I sat down..." Where is the speaker sitting down? Church?

As if to every man the gods gave but
five words of beauty in their lives,
and deep inside our hearts we scrounge and scape
to try and stretch them out across the years;
as if at 3a.m. Almighty God
is spinning decks and playing tunes,
and artists have a pint of poster paint,
illuminating gospels in the rosy hours -
how shallow they lie, our texts; how heretic-bright.

That is one sentence, and horribly incorrect. Make "As is at 3 a.m...." a new sentence at the very least.

If only Bibles were a conversation
from a holy Muse that men could love;
monologues lie cruel like dust-shrouds on Simoni,
fig leaves crushing David where he stands,
the Psalter scattered to the earth
like poisoned hallelujahs - we are salt,
and if the salt has lost its saltiness
to whom will academic God cry out?

Oh, no, another long sentence! Really, go through and cut these long sentences at least in half. *shudders from too many clauses*

salt has lost its saltiness

Awfully questionable, that. Perhaps instead of saltiness, use "taste" or something along those lines. Creating awkward words like that is iffy and is just weird in this case, considering it is preceded by two salts in the same line and line before and all.

The Song is like a knell,

for we have stolen unawares the key
from Simon's palsied grasp, and even now

As I said before, I think this would be more effective if sentences were not divided between stanzas.

Great work!
Colleen

I loved this stanza...

Don't you ever wonder how it works?
As if to every man the gods gave but
five words of beauty in their lives,
and deep inside our hearts we scrounge and scape
to try and stretch them out across the years;
as if at 3a.m. Almighty God
is spinning decks and playing tunes,
and artists have a pint of poster paint,
illuminating gospels in the rosy hours -
how shallow they lie, our texts; how heretic-bright.

Excellent job, I love the thoughts you've collected in this poem. I know I've found myself thinking and wondering about the same things, and it was nice to hear all of these thoughts in your words; I think you've done a remarkable job of it. I mean to say that reading this poem was like reading something I (and I imagine, lots of other people) have tried to say but have never achieved it, but here you've put it gracefully and beautifully into a poem. I applaud you.

I disagree about changing "saltiness"; you need the Biblical reference. I do think you should divide up the sentences a little, to make them more clear. Otherwise, good job!