I come home from a day that’s as tiring as blandAnd sit down with some paper and pens in my hand,And, when I reflect on this life that I scorn,A fantastic and folkloric world will be born.
I’m so tired of struggling day after dayTo keep things copacetic and going my way,But I can’t keep my troubles and problems at bay,So I’ll conjure up realms with creatures so gay.
I’ll construct and envision this world of my ownThat thousands of residents will soon call their home.I’ll ensure that they trust me and do what I will,Lest my hand become achy and pen become still.


“Genesis”
In the very beginning, I wrote of this landThat soon would be fit to be dwelt on by man,But, first, I could see that it wasn’t preparedAnd that man on this land would be nothing but scared,So I thought to myself, “Hey, let there be light!”And the lights came at once as the end-all of fright.So I made all the trees, and I made all the plants,And I made all the bugs like mosquitos and ants,And I made all the deer and the birds and the frogs,And I made all the weird ones that lodge inside logs,Yes, I made all this up, from the tip of my pen,All the cows and the pigs and the roosters and hens.I made every atom and each grain of sandAnd each billion species spread over the land,And for a few days I let them all run amuck,But they multiplied faster than food at potluck.So I sat back and thought, How to keep them restrained?For hours and hours I racked my poor brain,Then I finally thought that I’d throw in a dudeWho could kill them and cook them and use them for food.Thus, Adam was born, but he seemed rather sad,Just a tired and lonely and sorrowful lad,So I took out his rib, and I wiggled it quick,And shortly thereafter turned it into a chick.So Adam and Eve for a while coexist,But I knew there was some vital point I had missed.

Yes, something was wrong; I was bored all the time,So I thought to make some small change to their minds.I snuck in at night with my white-out and pen,And this notion of lying, I snuck it right in,But when neither Adam nor Eve made a moveTo be entertaining or try to improve,I sent in a serpent I’d made on day oneAnd told him to tempt them to make this more fun.I gave them an order to not eat this fruit,And I was convincing; they couldn’t dispute.So finally now I could watch in excitement,As Eve struggled to just resist her enticement,But of course she gave in, as I knew that she would,And I have to admit that it felt kind of good,But I punished her justly by making her bleedAnd knew from now on my advice she would heed,And when, after all, she and Adam lay down,I allowed them some children, despite my slight frown.For as many days later as I can recall,I watched all the children approach their downfall.I watched from afar, and I grinned with great zest,When I saw all the sodomy and the incest.I instilled in their minds notions of this taboo,But it mattered not; they were doing it too.The years came and went, and the crimes just got worseUntil my poor world became slightly adverse. I was ever so close to tearing to shredsAll the pages and pages on top of my bed,But that would be waste of my time and my skill,So I conjured a man who would bend to my will,And I told him to build up a very large boat.“Take two of each creature about whom I wrote.”I’d just drown all the liars and cheaters with flawsAnd start back from scratch with a new set of laws.




“Leviticus”
So to all my new rules every man would adhere,For he’d know of my wrath, and my rage he would fear,But soon I found out that that gene had slipped through,And it made man revolt and defy me anew,So I watched in disdain as my world waned again,And I watched all the shady, unethical menAs they raped and pillaged and had sex with the beasts,‘Til I took up my pen, and my ire was unleashed.Ev’ry man on this earth would soon know me by name,And every child would endure pain and shame. Thus, I made all my aims indisputably clear,And I set forth to veto streetwalkers and queers:
“All magicians and lepers, inferior too,Will be traded as slaves for the masses of you,And if you neglect to succumb to my willAnd you blaspheme, self-harm, or sell your sex still,I declare that the holy shall discharge my rageAnd shall stone you and kill you, regardless of age.”Then I shortened the lives of all of my swineAnd promised the good ones a new life, so divine,That would come after death if I deemed them all pure;I would bribe them with Heaven, such earnest allure,But this notion immortal would not be enough,And I had to respect that some may call my bluff,So I conjured another thereafter as well,And I filled it with demons and christened it “Hell.”If my men still refused to see all things my way,And their flaws and temptations still led them astray,I would smite them and damn them, condemn them for goodTo suffer eternal distress, as they should.All the wizards and robbers and men who love menWill think twice before they succumb to their sin, And the bondsmen who think that their slaves are their peersWill suffer my vengeance upon them for years.I declared that the very last day of the weekShould be dedicated entirely to me,And if any sinners should live in remorse,They’re only expected to slaughter a horseAnd offer it up, sacrifice it for me,And hold up its carcass so that I can see.In this way the masses will not render me vexed,And I may just forgive some unnatural sexAs long as they know that I watch from above,And they must just repent to recover my love.
“Job”
Well even these eerie ultimatums of HellCame back to haunt me and leave me unwell.Some men could not handle the thought of this fate,And sometimes went out of their ways to be great,But this sightless devotion was taken too farBy a man who would constantly plea my radar.Job thought that his wife and his children were cursed,So his alms he would give, and his prayers he rehearsed,But this ceaseless complaining got under my skin ‘Til I told a Hell-demon to smash his house in.Well Satan succeeded in wrecking the houseBut forgot to warn all of Job’s kids to get out,And when I looked down at the grief I had made,I saw Job’s response, and I was dismayed.In no time he was sitting outside with no dressAnd praising my name in the light of this mess.As my temper was rising due to his blind hope,I reached for my pen because I could not cope.I swiftly delivered him terrible painAnd speckled his soul with unbearable shame,But he still did not yield, and he thought he had wrongedTo deserve all this suffering I had prolonged.So I kept him in torment, discomfort, and harm,And I made him have boils on his face and his arms‘Til he finally blamed me, and I came to findThat I did not like when Job questioned my mind.Now my temper had risen once more, and I thoughtThat poor Job had at last done what he should not,But I did not worry with what I had done,And I rationalized that it was kind of fun,And Job I had made; I could take him awayIf he thought for a second he had any say.So I sent out a storm equal only to Me,And I spoke through the winds so that Job must agreeThat I was his savior and giver of life,And I could decide whom to saddle with strife.
“Malachi”
So between all the sinners and saintly devout,My creations were making me pull my hair out,And some men would come forth to boldly defy meWhile others would vindicate and rectify me.When I started to think that things could not be worse,Other men tried to claim I was well-rehearsedAnd that they alone were my vessels on earthWhom I’d written with singular, uncommon worth.They called themselves prophets, my eyes and my ears,And in others they struck insurmountable fearsWhen they preached of my vengeance and plans to come downAnd finally show them my skillful renown.They claimed I was after the worst of the worst,The servants of Satan who killed and were cursed,But they failed to acknowledge that in my own eyes,All the vain satisfaction surrounding their liesWas much less entertaining than infrequent deathsCarried out by his lackeys at Satan’s request.I just sat there and stared so ambivalentlyAt the things in my world who were forsaking me;I could not abide all the sin and the crime,But I also disliked those who called themselves mine.False worshipers and prophets were topping my listUntil Malachi reared his head to say this:“All your gifts are displeasing; your priests all tell lies,And with husbands routinely divorcing their wives,It’s not hard to believe that our Lord is displeased;It’s we men He created who cause Him to grieve.So before He descends from His Heavenly throne,He will send out a son who will, all on his own,Set this world back to right and then leave us prepared,So we don’t have to live our whole lives feeling scared.”Although Malachi spoke so little of truth,I thought that his notions could be of some use,So in one last attempt to revive my dead world,With my pen in my hand and my fingers all curled,I began making plans for the coming of Christ,Who would teach all my men to be humble and niceAnd would teach them the right way to worship their GodAnd inform them that Satan was merely a fraud.All the saints would adore him and learn more of meWhile the sinners abhor him but would come to seeAll the things in their lives that they’d lost without sightOf what truly is just and what truly is right.
















“Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John”
So finally I wrote this character inWho would stay true to me and terminate sin;I gave him some gifts that no other men boreSo he could heal the sick and give aid to the poor,And Jesus excelled at fulfilling his jobs;He quelled the most violent, quarrelsome mobs.He cured all the lepers and turned water to wineJust to prove that he truly was something divine.He walked across water and calmed stormy seas;He cured men inflicted with deadly disease;He healed halitosis and cured chickenpoxAnd fixed the dysfunctions in men who can’t walk.He’d aid amputees and give sight to the blind;He’d liven the listless and fix feeble-mind.He’d campaign for the poor and berate those with wealthAnd punish their greed with bad luck and poor health.He travelled my lands and helped all my menPut an end to their crimes and be wholesome again;He cleaned out the smut that prevailed in my landAnd taught men that I was the one in command;He spread word of my grief and resentment and shameAnd told them my generous, virtuous aim,And just when I thought that my problems were through,A man came about, and he called himself “Jew.”Well this Jew led a clan that neglected my ways,And they kidnapped my men and made them be slaves,And they sought Jesus Christ just to put him to death,So I sat back and watched while I bated my breath. Despite his great work, I was kind of relieved,‘Cause Jesus had some men convinced he was Me,But nevertheless this was utter disgrace;All these Jews killed my Jesus right under my face.They beat him and shamed him in public outright,Then strung him and left him to hang there all night.Well needless to say, I was not impressed;I sat up with my pen, and I wrote with great zest.It took me three days, but when my work was complete,Jesus rose from the dead and was back on his feet.All the men were convinced he had died for their sin,Carried it to the grave and just left it within,And I could not believe what then came to beAs my men turned their backs and immediatelyJust dismissed all they’d learned from Jesus beforeHe was beaten and dragged through his own filth and gore.So my plan to preserve what I’d made just fell through,And I’d no one to thank save the self-righteous Jew.I almost gave up on my world and my men,But one final notion came through to me then.This was not a plan to restore what I’d made,And not one creation did I care to save,But merely discarding my world would not do;Much more exhilarating events would ensue.



“Revelation”
My final objective of fail-proof design,With epic proportions and purpose divine,Was due after all to the tribe of the Jews;Their dissension inspired me to fashion miscues.I’d warned many times of diviners untrueAnd threatened discord with my fearsome debut,But so guileless and callow, my men never failedTo be tempted, convinced, cajoled, and regaled.So I wrote up a new story called the Qur’an,And I warned them alike of the weakness of man. I cross-wired the creatures, instilled in them hateAnd watched them pursue their inevitable fate.Each mortal was sure that he knew what was right,And those who dissented were willing to fight,But my fun came too slow as my worlds staggered on;Holy wars were sporadic, and martyrs seemed wan;I wanted to hasten the pending demise,So I had many stories still left to devise: I wrote of Mohammed and Moses, St. Paul;I could tell that my men were not happy at all.I wrote next of Buddha, Confucius, and Gandhi;My world in a maelstrom, I watched rather fondly.The Talmud! The Veda! The Upanishad!All my men were defending their own hand-picked fraud.I wrote Tantras and Sunnah and Analects too,And made more faithful lackeys at every venue.And before I sat back, just for comic relief, I made a few groups with fantastic motif;The Mormons, upstaged by the Scientologists,Once bombs were flying, were on no account missed.
When debate turned to mayhem, my plan was ago, And I let them all clash; their demise would be slow.Soon the buildings were burning and children lay slainAs fully grown men gave their lives in My name;Many women were tortured and beaten to death;They were raped and died screaming until their last breaths;I saw elders and infants, and neither were spared;Bodies littered the streets, and no one seemed to care;The fighters were covered in napalm and bombs,And they strolled into churches with nary a qualm;Sleeping men would be smothered in rubble and smoke,And the ones who crawled out would be beaten and choked.




Then finally Jesus was observed on a hillAs he urged all his zombies to go have their fill.He travelled the streets raising men from the dead,And the sight of these corpses filled rivals with dread;The vampires and werewolves and swamp monsters cameTo worsen the havoc and cripple and maim.The dark wizards and demons and skeletons roseTo take part in the turmoil and butcher their foes.The rivers ran red with the blood of My menAs every man killed his fam’ly and friends.Heads were severed, limbs lost, and nothing was gained;All the babies were burned and the cripples were caned; Hands were covered in blood and some fragments of brains,And even the living endured endless pain.My mountains all crumbled and cascaded from high,And black acid rain drizzled down from the sky;In the rivers and oceans and inlets and seas,Icy water was frothing and rising with ease;The distant sun withered and smoldered to ashThat turned black and vanished with one final flash.The stars twinkled out, and some fell from aboveAnd fell upon men who had once hoped and loved.All my plants were soon withered; my trees were all fell;The whole world became My description of Hell;Dark billows of smoke spiraled up to the cloudsBefore settling back on the dead like a shroud.All presumptions forgot and friendliness failed,The meek just stood by watching trains get derailed;Falling aircrafts exploded, and ships all just sank,And the whole atmosphere of the planet just stankOf decay and quietus, and no sounds were heardSave the brays of the beasts and the cackle of birdsAnd the screams of the children and cries of the lostAnd the blasts of bombs and the gusts of exhaust.When I felt gratified and contented enough,All belligerence ceased, and each man just peered up,And beyond all the smog, they all seemed to gazeAs the sky was alight with Star Wormwood’s blaze.






Afterword
When I went to set fire to the stack of my works,I thought fleetingly of the duty I’d shirked.Though this turned out to be an enlightening chore,I just could not take all the stress any more.
I did feel kind of glum as I watched my men dieIn the fiery apocalypse out of their sky,But I’d done what I could to forgive their misdeeds,And then, in the end, I was forced to concede.
I gave life and envisioned this world of my own,And let thousands of residents call it their home,But the masses had doubt, would not bend to my will,
Thus, my hand became achy, and my pen became still.