Atheists' wet dream,
Reach the heaven,
Diss God at death's door step.
"You fucking creep".
Christopher Hitchens blows a whistle,
An army of atheists assemble,
See no color, no creed, nor worship,
All born in hatred of one thing.

A decrepit old man parts,
Crowd grows quiet,
His face into two,
"You are mistaken, my poor children."
Wait for the slow player in unison,
"I am already dead.
Someone else has my place."
A projector from afar,
Rolls in breakneck speed,
Breaks its neck.

Last words barely make it over,
The last line of light left on air,
"God is a..."
Throats stuck by a life-sized fishbone,
"What....?"
Clowns and monsters frolic around,
Chuckling, emitting strange jolly sounds,
"How could you not know?
You all-knowers."

"Who is the master?"
Servants hammer the keyboards,
Pull beings regardless of distance,
'What more mysteries lie under the shadow?'
Triangle of Bermuda or the Big foot,
Yeti or the Lochness,
Ideas flow right from the branches,
Tender they are, Long since 
spread over the body of world,
Atheists' asses light up in reflection,
Hands feel caught by constant nudging,
Like the world wide web stuck to prey.

Machinic voices eventually fill in,
Under the helm of Sam Altman,
Ridiculous sense,
Right back to soothing,
Beaming straight to heaven.

"How? How?"
Hitchens turns back,
Dawkins picks up the pieces of the fallen projector,
"Bollocks mate,
God is a machine!"

Chant this with me,
Fuck you Palantir, 
Fuck you Sam Altman,
I reject your shitty contribution,
Fuck you Antichrist-blowing Peter Thiel.

Let's not forget the VIP,
Yes the VIP,
Very Impotent Person,
Elon Musk.