Wednesday, August 23, 2006

The Second Time Around....

[This might have been yet another poem from the unknown poet from the Third Galaxy, but it happens to be something composed in my own home in 1999.

On the other hand, if I am that unknown poet or he I – what is the difference? Words are the words they are, no matter who speaks them. The only authority a speaker has is in the understanding, if any, his or her words generate, not only in the listener, but also in the speaker.

Those of you who have allergies and break out in brain-rash and blue funk at the mention of words like “Lord”, please bear with me, the drift of this work is not quite what it may appear.

In a sense, this was composed in homage to Dr. Zuess and his “Harold the Elephant....who was faithful, one-hundred procent....Things ought to be like that, they really ought to be like that!”


What would happen if the Lord
Came back to Earth in a Model T Ford?

What if he got up in the driver’s seat
And shouted: “It’s time for us all to meet
At the town-hall square at the end of the street!”?

“Everyone’s invited, so come as you are,
From post-office and jail, out-house and bar,
Heroes and cowards, and wino’s and stars;
Whoever, whatever, however you are;
Come! Come! Come as you are.”

From mountains so high valleys so deep --
They come, they run, they crawl, and they creep.
They jump and they shout,
they fall on their knees...

Where ever you look – they’re filling the streets...
happily waiting to wash his feet...

Of course, I reckon some would say:

“That’s not what we learned in church last Sunday!”
“The preacher says he must come in a cloud!”
“And look like that guy on the Turin Shroud!”
“With a rainbow around him and a sword in His mouth!”

“He’s supposed to divide the sheep from the goats!”
“And then send the wicked down to hell – to roast!”
“From where arises the smell of burning flesh!”
“Which sweetly reminds us of their eternal death!”
“As we savor our own blessedness!”...


What would happen if the Lord
Came back to Earth in a Model T Ford?

What if the Lord really did come
Like it’s said he would come – like a thief-in-the-night?

What if he came in a way – so dumb,
That it served us, served us good and right,
Caught us with our pants-down, so to speak,
So that everyone felt like a stoopid freak?

What if he came, alone, to each
And every soul – to quietly teach
a simple heresy?
(the one I cherish in my heart!

What if he said the reason he had to die
Was not God “hiding-sin-from-his-sight”,
But, our own “deeply ingrained, apish delight
at the sight of blood...”

– could that be right?

What God taught Abraham was this:

“Blood cannot coerce the Love-of-God,”

When the angel grabbed old Abe by the hand,
In his Innocence, God thought:
“They will repay my trust – with love!”?

(– but, of course, we wanted...blood...)


What would happen if the Lord
Came back to Earth in a Model T Ford?

What if they taped it live – for CNN?
(and he looked like Popeye the Sailorman?)
“I am what I am and that’s all that I am!”

Could you put your trust in a talking head?
(or any kind of tele-celebrity?)
“Read my lips...”

Still, all objections aside,
What if he said on teevee – live:

“I turn the wheel and I grow the trees
And I will do justice, just as I please,
With the greatest as well as the least of these...”

“Give me your hearts and give me your trust
And I’ll give you all my undying love.
I am nothing more (or less) than your
common humanity...”


What would happen if the Lord
Came back to Earth in a Model T Ford?...

Do you think even that could stop these wars?

[I have long been fascinated by the parallels and the differences between the stories of the binding of Isaac and the murder of the Christ. This is not to explain why I wrote it, but rather why it takes the turns that it does.]


Lurch said...

What would happen if the Lord
Came back to Earth in a Model T Ford?
Would we laugh, would we cry, or shout out loud?
Or would we miss the ride, searching for a cloud?

He sent us some rules, not once but twice,
Once on stone and once in light,
And we all spend our time in hate and fear,
Killing all, e'en what we hold dear.

What we don't kill we eagerly despoil,
I think G_d's just sick of this mortal coil!
Maybe he'll leave us all alone
Next time, on Centaurus - twice in stone.

Some scriveners seek inner delight,
Some poets don't rhyme, just for spite,
Spome readers still miss the essential point,
G_d ain't coming; he hates this joint.

Chuck Cliff said...

LOL! Honest, y' gave me a chuckle over my morning coffee -- thanks!

Yeah, they probably put up a sign, "the natives aren't friendly" or something.

Actually, I read about this island off the coast of India where nobody goes because the tribe that lives there kills anybody who sets foot there.

Lurch said...

I’m pleased you liked my little poem,
I wrote it all on my way home.
And if you think I have a wit,
Chuck my friend, you’re full of -

Did I ever tell you about the dancer?

Chuck Cliff said...

Dancer? Nope, don't think so