The Church of the Holy What-The-Fuck

Our cathedral is a condemned mall
Where escalators lead to nowhere
And the food court serves communion
Of dumpster-dived feasts and free coffee

The First Commandment:
“Thou shalt not take any of this shit seriously”
(Except when we do)
(Which is whenever we want)

Today’s sermon:
How a committee of raccoons
Infiltrated the Federal Reserve
And replaced all the gold
With spray-painted pinecones
(The economy improved)

The choir sings shopping lists
While the congregation responds
With fake corporate slogans
And backwards tax codes

Our priests wear thrift store suits
Inside out, ties as headbands
Performing the sacred rite
Of turning business plans
Into paper airplanes

The collection plate circulates:
Drop in your student debt statements
Your parking tickets, your bills
We’ll origami them into cranes
And release them into the CEO’s office

Our prayers:
“Blessed be the glitch”
“Holy shit, what now?”
“From each according to their weirdness
To each according to their need for chaos”

The Sunday School teaches
How to turn credit cards into garden tools
While our prophets spray paint
Liberation theology
On billboard advertisements

After service we share
A potluck of possibilities
Each dish flavored with
The spice of mutual aid
And garnished with giggles

Join us in unholy communion
At the Church of the Holy What-The-Fuck
Where every crisis is an opportunity
To practice sacred absurdity
And revolutionary care

Our final hymn:
“The banks are burning
But we’re all learning
How to dance in the light
Of collective confusion turned right”

Amen.
Whatever.
Five bucks says the universe is laughing.