The ruling dynamic of the cosmos is the inevitable state of equilibrium toward which everything that exists must flow. In 13.7 billion years during the expansion of the misnamed Big Bang, a mix of particles eventually produced homo sapiens, leaving us to continually question our purpose for existence. We use religion and other social-structuring tools, sometimes to our advantage and sometimes to our own destruction, in an effort to make sense of our lives and inevitable deaths.
These poems and stories are reflections on those quests for meaning in the otherwise indifferent and incomprehensible universe in which sentience exists.
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What could we know of endings
in that early season of unlocking,
when the breath of God was lilacs
whispered faint and cautious
on soft spun breezes that seemed
to promise us everlasting dances,
too soon slowing their tempos
as autumn gently touched our limbs.
Exegesis on Exodus
Just park your Bible over there, my man,
and let me sort these things out in my mind.
The way I hear you tell it—and let me
know if I got this right—is that some dude
named Moses came across a burning bush
that spoke to him and said that it was God.
Not only God, but the sole deity
the Hebrew slaves in Egypt should worship.
Still, Moses had to ask the bush’s name
so he could tell the Pharaoh who sent him
to demand that a bunch of laborers,
a super cheap work force at that, mind you,
should be given pink slips and sent packin’.
But why didn’t Moses know right away?
He was a Hebrew himself, after all.
A flippin’ monotheist all along,
yet he had to ask which god was speaking.
Sounds like his caravan might have been shy
a few camels, if you know what I mean.
But he was apparently I Am’s boy,
for better or worse, so that would be that.
Thus, God’s paladin goes back to Egypt—
that country where they threw him out before—
and he gets himself in to see Pharaoh,
who likely wasn’t thrilled that he’d come back.
“Let my people go,” he up and demands.
“Your people?” Pharaoh says. “You’ve got some nerve.
I’ve seen smaller balls on a brass monkey.
Those slaves belong to me and me alone.”
“Then God’s gonna get you,” Moses replied.
“Which god? Pharaoh asked. “I Am,” he answered.
“You are?” his majesty suppressed a laugh.
“No, I Am,” Moses reiterated.
“That’s what I said,” the Pharaoh insisted.
“You are, and my answer remains the same.”
“No, no—I Am, I Am, and Who’s on first.”
“I don’t care. My answer is still no, nada, nicht!”
So Moses left everything in God’s hands,
and the Almighty hardened Pharaoh’s heart
which meant that all the plagues that were to come
didn’t have to happen in the first place
since Pharaoh really didn’t have a choice.
Now, if you ask me, it seems I Am
was bound and determined to dump a load
on those poor Egyptians no matter what,
and thus the Nile River turned to blood.
But we all know it was really red mud,
and so did everyone else who saw it,
which means it didn’t count for diddly-squat
as far as being a threat from on high.
God soon followed up with frogs, lice, and flies,
but they already had flies a’plenty;
same with lice, and frog legs tasted real good.
Then I Am got nasty and killed their cows—
no matter that the herdsmen lacked the means
to get Pharaoh to unthaw his hard heart
which was I Am’s doing from the get-go.
Might I point out here how very absurd
it is to credit God with omniscience?
It costs you credibility, my friend.
See, if God already knows that the boils,
the firey hail, locusts, and darkness
weren’t going to work no matter what,
why would He go to all of the trouble,
making everyone’s lives hell—Hebrews, too—
before he hits them with His big whammy
and strikes dead the firstborn of every goy?
Kind’a dickish of Him, wouldn’t you say?
And that’s the Deity we should worship?
Well, yeah, it all worked out pretty damn swell
for Moses and his people, who were freed
but kept slaves of their own as time went on,
though all that came after God parted seas,
drowned Pharaoh’s soldiers, and rained down manna
as the Hebrews wandered for forty years
in the desert with nothin’ much to do
except follow a bunch of Commandments.
And it wasn’t like those rules were much fun;
no killin’ (’ceptin’ when I Am said to)
and no screwin’anyone’s wives but yours.
Even in a polygamous culture
that crap could get old very, very quick,
but it might still have worked out for the best
if God had followed His own rule and left
Joseph’s old lady, that Mary, alone.
But, if He had, that book you keep thumpin’
would have been a heck of a lot shorter,
and you might have found a much better way
to spend your time than convincing no one
that your holy version of Mother Goose
for adults makes the slightest bit of sense.
Just one more thought, fella: Why don’t you make
a personal Exodus out the door
before some of these other guys get pissed?
On Saturday nights, they sometimes start fights,
and I’d hate to see a river of blood
when there ain’t no slaves left that need freein’.