I was very young when God first appeared to me. He said: "Son, you know what I want you to do." "Make you marketable?" I said-asked. He nodded, profoundly. "Your word is my comand." I tried. I honestly did. I tried selling God as a hip folk singer, tried the "love" thing, tried the redemtion bit, but the only followers I got were psychopaths who believed only in their own inner voices. Not mine. I'm not sure how to end this poem. Nothing being resolved and all. Maybe I should just say: Halleluia! I lived to the end of it. Mike Geary Memphis