misanthropist's oomph!

It is in the power of belief

To hold the entire life-time hostage

 Within the sanguine red tunnels

A rag-like hope tumultuous drifts

Along the red rapids to anchor

In the docks of glacier-death,

So fuck God!

 If he be, then let him kindly be:

I shall not waste lust on an altar

Where an imagined image stares back

Without blinking, nor admonishing

Nor encouraging but cold, cold

like a mute dozing at a question.