DOGLANDS

Strung out on belief, 

you Gods are like puppies, 

instead of proving that you are their

divine masters

its now clear that

you are slaves to the sinners.

Almighty Gods, 

you once earned devotion — 

shrines were built up gilded,

illuminated books called all 

to come say your name;

and the people flocked,

backs bowed in recognition

that you all were the powers who

kept their lives in balance

of good and pain.

Now you are dogs

your shrines are outhouses;

you've been trained to heel 

to any hand that feeds,

happy to roll over 

at the touch

of one the filthy wretches

in lovesick, disastrous

idolatry.

Well now you've been kicked!

And you've come back crying, 

wondering how these mortals could 

take your powers,

make ruin of your world

and of each other. 

That is what sinners do, 

and now you are no better.

So, go now, you batch of strays, 

to the Doglands you are cast,

make order of the mess you've made

or die among the rest.