He Who Would Be God

 

He who would be called God,

Narcissistic, craving of all attention,

Sat on his La-z-boy pondering plans for self glorification,

For triumph over the ignorant masses.

 

He who would be called God,

Famous for profundity

For philosophy,

For sayings such as

“Divide and conquer,”

Was feeling bored and lonely.

 

He who would be called God,

Already dwelling in the minds of all men,

Sent messages to his infinite minions

To unite in isolation,

Become one in separation,

Gather in tribes a-greed in discontent.

 

“Fill the screen of your consciousness with what is wrong,

With what is lacking.

Reject all that is before you as false and misleading.

Do not fall for satisfaction, for contentment.

Distrust and fear nature.

Call on me for the promise of what’s to come.”

 

“I am the way and the truth and the light.

I am the ONLY way and only you are given this truth,”

He who would be called god spoke to each isolated mind.

“Those who will inevitably disagree with you,

Those who say that only they have been told that

I am the way and the truth and the light,”

He continued to teach,

“Are wrong and shall be damned and shunned.”

 

(Go ahead, scratch your head in confusion).

 

“You and I together, righteous are we.

Only me do you need and no other,”

Spoke he to every man.

 

Yet he who would be called God

Was still unsatisfied,

Wandering alone in each mind.

Even he desired the companionship of the

Self-righteous,

And he desired the power and the glory of

The battle and the conquest.

 

Right must win over wrong

Good must destroy evil

How can I feel better than

Without some who feel worse.

 

So, he who would be called god

Sat at his desk and began to devise a Game Plan,

An exciting Game to engage

All the minds of the men he had already

Filled with himself.

 

Teams were the way, he concluded,

To make the game exciting, dangerous,

To pit large groups against each other,

To feel companionship and righteousness,

Hatred and separation all at the same time.

 

He who would be called god

Sat at his desk and wrote the

Manuals that would set the

Rules of the Game,

Establish the teams,

Set the Game in motion.

 

He chose captains for the teams

Captains who would come and go over time.

He wanted his game to last a very long time.

 

Great men he chose,

Those whose minds were fully

Absorbed in him,

Those who listened and obeyed Him without doubt,

Those most influenced by suggestion.

 

In his own mind he could visualize their march through history.

Abraham, John, Paul, Constantine, the Papacy, Luther, St. Augustine,

The inquisitors, Columbus and Ponce de Leon,

Joseph Smith, Jim Jones, David Koresh, Charles Manson,

Rabbis, sheiks and ayatollahs,

Bin Laden and Bush,

Televangelists galore and, throughout time and space,

So many, many more.

 

He who would be called god

Smiled to himself at his own cleverness.

He wrote on, story after story

Compiling many books.

 

The Old Testament he wrote for one team

The New Testament for another group, splintered from the first.

The Koran for a third, also descended from the first.

In each book he stressed

The words could never be changed, never challenged

With threat of death and eternal damnation.

That all the players were related,

Yet fighting and killing each other

Slaked in him a special thirst.

 

He filled these books with his many names

Demanding worship and full devotion.

Yahweh, Jehovah, Allah,

He didn’t care what they called him

Just so they did nothing together

Just so they never figured out that

He was only he who WOULD be called god,

Mental construct filling each mind,

Distracter from Reality.

 

Proud he was at the game he set.

All was going well.

War and genocide, chaos and fear

The world had gone to hell.

All religious people prayed for the world to end,

Positioning themselves to do what they could to expedite that end.

 

He walked the lands, he raised his hands

At the sacrificial smell.

The goal he’d set at the start of time

His goal to end this world,

He no longer had to sell.

 

His captains now were convinced,

Their rightness had no doubt.

Their fingers poised on nuclear buttons

Awaiting final certainty.

He smiled at the thought

Of the revelations he wrought,

His word was followed to the letter,

And then…NO

 

His game had stopped.

Something was amiss,

His rules were being broken!

Someone was CHANGING the STORY he had so carefully written.

 

He who would be called god in the mind

Of the arrogant story changer

Shouted and warned, threatened all harm,

Promised gravest danger.

 

Get real, that conscious mind replied,

Your stories are meant to deceive.

It’s time we did a rewrite

Time for a global reprieve.

 

Many of us now know you are

Only a mental construct.

The worst of our own ideas.

Your time is up, a lie’s a lie.

You who would be called god,

It’s time to die.

 

 

 

Last Night I Heard God Talking

 

Last night I heard God talking
And this is what He said:
Women are just tempters
They want you in their bed.

“It’s my unchallengeable dictate
Celibate you must be
You cannot have any sex
And retain your purity.

For you to be My spokesman
For you to be My man
Whenever you get horney
Stop! Do whatever you can.

Douse yourself with ice water
Wear an iron strap
Mutilate your body
Lacerate your back

You will one day thank Me
You will bear My cross
Heaven your reward will be
The world will be your loss”

 

Chorus
Can you believe what we believe?
Just listen to Adam blame it on Eve
She’s the first woman and he’s the first wimp
No wonder the men are all going limp.

 

Last night I heard God talking
And this is what He said:
Find a bunch of pubescent girls
And take them to your bed.

Start a new religion
Justify dysfunctional need
Just tell’em that I told ya so
My order you must heed!


Chorus
Can you believe what we believe
Just listen to Adam blame it on Eve
She’s the first woman and he’s the first wimp
No wonder the men are all going limp.

 

Last night I heard God talking
And this is what He said:
If you join My special group
I’ll raise you from the dead.

Together we’ll hang in the clear blue sky
In rapture blessed and well
And Watch the unbelievers down below
Descend into fiery hell.

If you join you’ll never fret,
The others’ ignorance you’ll find funny
Go and preach now what I say
Collect a lot of money.

 

Chorus
Can you believe what we believe
Just listen to Adam blame it on Eve
She’s the first woman and he’s the first wimp
No wonder the men are all going limp.

 

Can you believe what we believe
Mary had a baby without having sex
To free us from the sins of Eve
No telling what we’ll believe next
No telling what we’ll believe next

Well why not write a different story
A tale that’s much more fun
Like, Moses took a toke from a burning bush
And lay laughing in the sun.
Jonah got a job with Greenpeace
Protecting all the whales
And Noah worked with the Wildlife Fund
Saving animals from floods and gales.

Can you believe what we believe…
Can you believe what we believe…

PEACE or PIECE

 

The peace of cake

The peace of pie,

With so many tasty peaces

I wonder why

We go to war, to kill and die.

 

Why do we break into pieces,

A world that’s really one.

To keep it all one peace

Is certainly much more fun.

No borders, no fences, no need to defend

A peace of cake beats a war with a gun.

A war is never won.

SEASHELL

 

When you live in a pretty shell

It’s likely that someday your life will be hell.

Some ignorant, insensitive, idiotic lug, walking along the beach

Will see your home and down he will reach,

And throw you away like a slug.

Moon Musings

 

A winter night

   Departing geese honk at the moon

 

A slice of melon moon,

   Cool and white,

Floating in darkness

 

A fingernail moon

  Bitten from a cosmic hand.

Hanging in the night.

Birthday Ode to Dusky Rose

 

The sun was glad when you were born.

The earth and air rejoiced.

The laughing rivers, the pounding waves

Their welcome to you voiced.

 

The sacred things were glad, they said,

Glad that you are here.

They know that in your mind and heart

You hold them safe and dear.

 

You are blessing to the plants and trees,

Hummingbirds and bees,

Blessing to the skunk and deer,

To everyone that’s here.

 

You will say that I exaggerate,

You think you nothing do.

But all the creatures, all the plants,

All the sacred elements

Know what’s best for all of life

Is for you to just be you.

THE COLORS OF MY LIFE

An Ode to Ageing

 

The colors of my life, of my sorrow and joy,

The reds and yellows of my courage, my love,

 

The grays of my indifference and insensitivity,

 

The browns of my being at one with you and all life,

 

The colors of my life have risen to my skin,

To the surface of my being for all to see.

 

I am as beautiful now as an autumn leaf.

 

For as my soul prepares for flight,

This dappled body will soon drop from the Tree of Life

 

Light,

     Brittle,

 

To crumble into earth,

     To serve again as the palette of the soul.

 

HEADS

 

Heads are very useful things

They have a mouth that talks and sings,

And ears, there are two. To hear the singing,

And ears hear bells, when bells are ringing.

 

The ears heads carry, carry rings

At times one pair, two pair or four,

Some ears on heads even carry more!

Sometimes noses, too, wear rings

For noses, too, are useful things.

 

On top of heads we wear our hair.

We wear it long, or bald or short

Some English heads wear wigs to court.

We wear it dark, we wear it fair,

A million ways our heads wear hair.

 

Oh, heads are very useful things,

They carry crowns if you be King.

If you be Queen the same is true

But heads like these are very few.

 

For most of us it’s hats heads hold

Hats that are modest, hats so bold,

Hats tall and stiff, hats we can fold.

Cowboys’ heads hold hats wide and brimmy,

Carpenters’ hats are hard and rimmy.

 

Heads are very useful things,

They carry eyes and eyes can see.

Eyes see the ears and eyes see crowns,

Eyes sometimes smile, eyes sometimes frown.

Eyes can be colored blue, hazel or brown.

Eyes see things over here, over there,

Yes, eyes see things most everywhere.

 

Between our eyes, so central and bold

Sits our very useful nose,

two to six feet above our toes.

Atop our nose is a boney ridge

Where glasses may sit that is called the bridge.

The nose may twitch if told a riddle,

Noses smell pancakes hot on the griddle.

Noses have nostrils, one on each side

That breathe in the air so we can decide

To take in deep breaths when the air is sweet

And warn us where not to place our feet.

 

A head is a very useful thing,

Inside the head there sits a brain,

That tells us, “it’s wet,” when it starts to rain.

One job of the brain is to get things done,

But sometimes it needs to rest and have fun

And enjoy how the rest of us dances and runs.

 

Yes, yes, yes, the head’s very useful, that’s true,

And all that I’ve said, YOU ALREADY KNEW!