The God Machine

I came across a snack machine, or so I thought it was.
As I got close, I found instead, something that made me pause.
There were no snacks inside, I saw, in each cramped numbered slot.
Rather, shockingly I’d say, were several different gods.
Some were white, and some were black, and some were big or small,
Some were fat, and some were thin, and some were short or tall.
And while there was variety, as much as gods do go,
I noticed that the same white god was in the top two rows.
I guess it was most popular, its button worn near through,
And though it took up several slots, all were bare but two.
I took a seat upon a bench beneath an oak nearby
So I could see what would transpire when one that god did buy.
It wasn’t long before someone, who hungered for a god,
Did come upon the god machine and stood there kind of awed.
He stood a bit, scratched his chin, and cocked his head in thought,
Then sure of choice, put in a dime, and pressed the worn out spot.
And out it came, the favoured one, like many had before;
It glistened now in the bright light and waited in the drawer.
He held it close, examined it, then kissed it once for luck,
Then said a prayer his parents said when he was young and such.
It came to life, that idol cheap, and I could hear it speak
It shocked me, what I heard it say; it made me want to shriek.
“Hello, dear sir. I am your god. My precepts you’ll adore.
I don’t want much. In fact, I’d say, there’s little new in store.
I’ll teach you want you want to hear and won’t demand too much.
I am smooth and comfortable and pleasant to the touch.
I will never rock your boat; in fact, I hardly row.
I’ll just lie back, in warming sun, and feel the cool breeze blow.”
And then this god stretched forth its hand and patted on the head
The man who purchased him just now and made his cheeks turn read.
He giggled at the touch of the trinket god so bold.
And skipped away, along the path, to pick some marigolds.