God arose – and wrung His hands.
“Those Calvinists have got it wrong;
my will is shackled by human sin
and their chains are far too strong.
I gave them all free will – it’s true…
some choose to scorn my sacred Word.
I guess I don’t know what to do;
their human plans are undeterred
while my designs are all aborted;
no more need for intake lists.
My plans made void, my Truth distorted
Distressed by celestial impotence
His angels wept and veiled their faces;
for there is nothing God can do-
when man His perfect plan effaces.
The Lord continued, in His sorrow
“I’m guilty and my outlook’s narrow
in other words: I’m screwed…
Man is king – while I, poor servant,
exist to bless his mortal dreams.
Genie of the Bible bottle,
I facilitate their schemes.”
God sighed. “Oh that my wisdom could
redeem the lost, and punish sin
but I’m unable to get through.
(Besides, I’m semi-Pelagian.)
Humankind can vote me out,
fashion me anew from clay.
I will evolve to suit their fancy
growing with them day by day.
I want to help them – but it’s hard.
I just can’t do predestination…
Mortals twist my righteous plans
I’m no rigid righteous Sovereign –
don’t believe that Puritan hype.
I’m your life coach – here to offer
I’d love to finish what I started –
but humankind won’t acquiesce.
First I need to ask permission
so our plans might coalesce.
My essential need to please;
(sinful self-important twerplets –
ignorant of my unease…)
Tulip-breeding Dutch reformers
Sottish lairds and heretics
reading the Bible for kicks
will never comprehend my purpose.
I am sworn to placate Man!
Offering my selfless service –
I’m doing the best that I can.
So burn a candle, say a prayer.
Let me prosper, help and bless you.
Intervene? I’d never dare.
I’m mainly here to confess to.
I sing the Self – that mystic fable.
Lie to Truth as Cain to Abel.
Inner blight of fallen man,
enemy of Heaven’s master-plan:
your inner SELF! The guiding light
of Luciferian deception.
Mystic wisdom’s blinding sight;
purveyed as truth: obscene confection.
Listen well – please spare your soul
and sidestep this, the blackest hole.
The Self is sewage! Look within:
then dive down deep into your sin
behold that putrid old abyss
the fallen source of carnal bliss.
Inspire. Inhale in full the stench
from deep within the septic trench
unsounded depths, a cesspool’s source
depravity released in force.
Apart from mercy undeserved
on those whom Heaven has reserved.
Apart from Christ, your sordid purpose;
jewel whose bright refracted surface
glistens, beckoning to the feast
yet never can appease the beast.
I hail your lie, oh Inner Self
you silted continental shelf –
(or are you more a surge oceanic:
roiling undertow satanic)?
New Age myth, and Hindu idol
fallen god whose pull is tidal…
Brahman, Atman, Buddha, babble
lies repackaged for the rabble…
How deep do you intend to go
into our post-Edenic show?
How far the bottom? Whence the end?
Explore ! You’ll never comprehend.
You’ll find still worse – and yet descend.
IMAGE CREDITS: christinehoeflich.com
Offended by your victimhood
while victimized by your offense,
you hurt so bad that I felt good;
my guilt was sweet – your pain intense.
I lacked your lack of self-esteem
yet shared your sense of wounded pride
while sleeping through our waking dream –
the Inner Light left on outside.
Your suicide invades my space –
your death insults my lifeless life.
Your omnipresent cryptic face
beams forth, as dull as any knife.
IMAGE CREDIT: transformativestates.com