Doggerel 1

Priests are quite tasty
ministers nice
and fundamentalists?
given to vice

some hate
who they are
some hate
who they're not
and all of them fear
the place that is hot.

they study the scriptures
pore over the word
fall in love with the strictures
accept the absurd

the fears of the pious
make the best meat
the fears of the "holy"
are especially sweet

the just are not righteous
the righteous not just
for they do not believe
they were made out of dust

yet from dust were they made
and to dust they'll return
they will be bait for flies
they will be food for worms

he saves them from sin
he saves them through grace
he saved them by dying
he left not a trace

you may be his children
I AM son of her son
the lord of creation
but creation's not done

I dance in your darkness
walk again on your streets
I will find the ten pillars
bring them to defeat

But this time I'll not hurry
I'll not make that mistake
again as I did
in the heat of first hate

for revenge is a dish
that is best
when served cold
and the truth is only a tale
when it's told

and when it is tolled
I shall stand by the grave
absorbing the sorrow
of those who will be my slaves

and remember their fear
to savor again
and dream of the day
I shall be lord of men.

Umbra

the one before 
the one hereafter 
as was the time before
will be the time hereafter
when in those days 
on the mountain wandering
clothed in righteousness
came
the messenger of hate
the father of darkness
the son of lies
beneath the sun 
upon the stones
and rested there
through the heat of the day
the sun above
the shadow below
the shade beneath
the silver green tree
the mother she
the anointing oil
waited

watched while
upon the high places
where incense burning
upon stone altars
not cut with iron tools
nor with other metal
rose columned smoke 
into clear sky
an offering to the lord
fragrant, rich, pleasing
oh so long ago
shall we speak together
again
sheep and goats
bleating as they grazed
the sheep low
the goats high
wait for the cool of the evening
and the shade of night

the breeze gentle
waved the branches the limbs
the leaves gently
gently
I can hear it now
remember it
cool upon my skin

time measured out 
not by pendulum swing
nor spring wheel pivoting 
but by shadow
beginning long
growing short
only to grow long 
again
in opposition to the light
until it consume the world
in night
shadow flowing streams
gentle like water
pooling in the low spots
to slowly rise
by the moon tide drawn 
into the nostrils of the waiting
to drown them

for all that is mortal
is far heavier than night
and all that is spirit 
is heavier still

So you came to tempt

she whom you created
yet still you hate and fear
she who brings forth life
which you, made in his image
cannot
so you say 
he granted you dominion
over she who is your master
which he could not
for neither dominion
nor mastery
was his to grant

Oh great mother
you brought forth error
your sons have gone astray
enslaved your daughters
and wander 
lost in the wilderness
their words create illusion in their minds
believing the word 
to be the thing
fallen from wisdom
and he who fell
thereafter
and was bound
but is freed
returns
who hopes to finish that
which he began
oh so long ago

beneath the green trees 
waiting
for the sound of your footsteps
light bearer you
who saw him 
for what he is
for which he never forgave you
shall we speak
you and I
in the cool of the evening
here beneath the green trees
the shaded bower

will you meet
here in the world of light
the world in ochre
umber
green
silver the bladed olive leaves
here in the garden
cast their flickering dancing
umbra to the ground

shadow
will you dance 
dance here with me
dance here in the shade 
the shade of the day
while we wait