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the powers that ain’t

the day God died
was pretty much like any other –
the sun came up
& stuff went down,
a bit of drizzle
here & there.

nobody thought to ask
did He want flowers,
to be buried, or cremated,
or what?

we tried to find someone
suitably worthy
to say a few kind words
but in the end
we settled on Bono

maybe not the first choice
but WTF –
his heart’s in the right place
even if his head’s
up his arse

and in a way it’s quite poetic -
God gave us Bono
& we gave him right back -
a taste of His own medicine.

It’s been a week -
& like they said,
on the seventh day He rested -
but, to be honest,
I think He’s just abusing
the privilege now.