Looking for God in the kitchen

 what kind of magic should I conjure this week for thou holiness
Great spirit opens the curtain for a peak smile fully flexed
a grin turns a smirk turns into a wiggling lipped giggle
at a lost human everyday a new cumbersome pickle

The joke of human limbs, ego, quirky recipes and ideas
His grace laughs the sun up and a few unnecessary fears
He laughs the birds to fly the clouds to perform rain
he laughs the energy into our brains

My grandfather dawn matter of factly pointed me toward the future
His cupboards empty, his missing leg, missing wife and other ruptures
Built my father´s sense of humour into  a routine fluency
just to bear his frustration at the sense of insufficiency

Then a value awoke in my father
is it one that will find a home in me
God like soul engineer sorcery you´ve never seen
steering us through that deary routine unending
Trying not to laugh itself into a frenzy

the magic I need this next week to savour
Is to be able to distinguish between flavours
This bowl of soup needs a few more years to simmer
Life makes a professional look like a beginner

falling over myself
no permission from god
salt and pepper out of reach
me trying to claw at them

Accumulated spirit dragon neck proud
springing down from dappled cloud
just to laugh at this predicament
this sweet and sour entertainment
I haven´t found the surge of magic

When it comes
Ill throw the soup over hell just to cool it off
ill take the strings that attach our hands to your will
Ill tie up the dinosaurs and slow roast them over the fires
of the eastern wars

feed them to the next generation
before they go out staunchly and aggressively
to track you down among the stars