AbrahamOnce I sat drunk on the mountain aloneDreaming of death, my heart like a stone. Then Father Abraham came strolling by With son and knife, no fear in his eye. “Let’s see how dying’s done,” I mused, And took old Abe, his faith abused. “My name, JHWH, you can’t pronounce So don’t even try, I’d strongly denounce. Call me Lord, or God if you dare And don’t question my word, beware. Slaughter your little son, soft as a breeze, And I’ll make you rich beyond your pleas. I’ll gift you the grandest, swimming palace to roam Tailored to every dream you’ve known. Now stab and act and trust my call You’re not like the beasts, not at all!” I slipped him decay to mock and scorn To mow down his worries, tattered and torn. Through greed alone his will I’d seize To forge his joy as I please. But just as he raised the knife to slay I burst out laughing, couldn’t stay. This Father’s not quite right, oh no, "Stop it, I can’t take more!" I crow. The deal was off, so what to do? Sat old Abe down, gave him a view. To keep wealth from gnawing his soul apart Almost halfway-fixed him, a makeshift start. “Go make the world your own to command And pile it up as cash in my hand!” Man be man, and beast be beast All together serve my feast. I steered him to envy, to strife’s embrace Granted him victories, a fleeting grace. So profit he’d honor, day by day And never defy my sovereign say. Thus he sold it all, himself and even my peak And heaped it as richness for me to keep. I tried to stop him, sent Moses near But that fool only half would hear. Like Noah before him — yes, I confess The flood was a boozy, shitty mess. Even Jesus never quite tuned in right As long as I’m blamed in every fight. Mohammed, though, shocked me to the core I never dictated a word, what for? My last hope to fix this broken land Deserted screaming, “Mama’s hand!” So now here I squat in desert sand Alone and sick and naked can’t stand. I’ve got my sack stuffed full of gold Abe traded the world, so brash and bold. I wished an Abdul would come my way Sell me a healed world, bright as day. And so I sit here in dust alone And dream of being drunk, my throne.
Oolon Coluphid Jr. |
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