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Aspirations of a Newborn God |
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This is just a simple, random, very long poem I wrote for school. It's basically just my musings, in poem form, on the kind of things I'd do if I were omnipotent. It kind of got unexpectedly dark toward the end, but that's just how it turned out. Just felt like putting it on here.
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Omnipotence simply cannot be,
As those who think should certainly see.
But at the same time you just cannot say
That such power is limited in any way.
For unlimited might implies something more;
Even logic itself is naught but a chore.
So make your excuses, your counters, your proofs,
My godly power will still out you as goofs.
I twist all the world to match with my whims
And regard with disdain all silly sung hymns.
Though I dislike religion and most of its kind,
I’d ironically change things so I was behind
The creation of all, with just a small nod;
That’s right, my dear readers, I’d MAKE myself God!
Now don’t get me wrong— I’m not that big-headed—
I do not desire to be praised or dreaded.
I’d simply enjoy such a bittersweet fact:
The one you call God is just some random brat.
You may call that rude, maybe even cold,
But when having fun, I’ve got to be bold.
Even with that, don’t think I’m not smart;
I’d be sure to protect my once-frail heart.
After decreeing my limitless life
I’d proceed to obtain a life without strife.
My will would ensure that I would not break
In body or mind; too much is at stake.
No one could hope to match my might
Unless they agreed to skip any fight
That may be provoked, whoever’s at fault;
Conflict between gods is consigned to the vault.
And after that boring and cautious work’s done,
I’d get down to business and have lots of fun.
Mischief and pranks would be all around;
On the faces of all, confusion is found.
Next Tuesday, you see, at the break of dawn,
All will soon find that their left shoe is now gone.
I’d cry as I laugh, to see them all hop
With annoyed small expressions seeking my neck to chop.
But aside from ensuring my guilt is not known,
I am well aware chaos could be sown.
So that is why I would ALSO decree
That my whimsical acts would not harm a flea.
Now that I have done the responsible thing
Let’s go back to my playing like a cat with its string.
On an innocent day, with no one the wiser,
The colors invert, each one— I’m no miser;
Every leaf, every sign, every person and cloth,
When I want to be thorough, my sin in not sloth.
But more than all those I have one great dream,
To make the whole world have a song-and-dance theme.
A true global musical is what I desire
In homage to all flash mobs who’ve gone prior.
To make it so sweet that I almost can’t cope,
I’d allow a few people from music to elope.
They’d gaze all around at the prancing and singing
While wondering if their sanity’s still clinging.
Then, the next day, all would be clear,
The whole world yelling “What the **** happened, here?!”
But more simple joys I equally love,
Where I do nothing to any, not even a shove.
I’ll read while I walk (a hobby of mine),
But in such strange places your mind won’t be fine.
I’d walk on the ocean and wave at the boats,
Or sit on a plane’s wing and picnic with oats.
I might even stroll above the sidewalk
Three inches too high while all of you gawk.
At all of these times I would not show off,
To acknowledge the stares, at most, I’d just cough.
Of course, not all of my deeds are just fun;
Sometimes I wish to have noble things done.
One way to force all that is sexist to end
Is to take away gender so that all will then blend.
Now, you may not wish to be both woman and man,
And if that is your choice then just your kids can.
But you can still rest knowing I can still budge
If the results of this project merely cause you to drudge;
If that is what happens I’ll turn back the clock,
Erasing my efforts— I’ve more in my stock.
Yet one more thing I wish to destroy
Is the importance of sex to each girl and boy.
I’d take from each person their instinctive sex drive
So devotion to PEOPLE will soon start to thrive.
As with all the things written above,
I’d manipulate fate for the sake of
Improving upon the human race
By chancing your lives and your genes into place.
The stupid, the violent, the criminally unwise,
The weak, the frail, and those poor insane guys
Would all “just-so-happen” to not want or have kids;
The passing on of bad genes is what fate now forbids.
At the same time, the strong and the smart
Would procreate plenty, fulfilling their part.
The creative and kind would be in on it, too,
So that, in the end, the great won’t be few.
It may be that many will see this as bad,
Crying “Eugenics!” and me a foul cad.
To that, I reply, “I don’t really care.”
I’d never kill any, and harm not a hair.
I’d make sure that love would not be occluded
So wipe the foam from your mouth, and don’t be deluded.
But enough with all of that sensitive stuff;
Let’s move on to something not at all tough.
What kind of place would I make for myself?
Well, let’s just sift through my conceptual shelf.
It would be very pretty, and almost divine,
Where all of my friends and their loved ones are fine.
Magic food makers would be commonplace,
With two different modes that you would not replace.
The first would just make you whatever you want,
While the second, much better, makes what “hits the spot.”
Every book, every game, every show, every movie;
All would be ours! Isn’t that groovy?
But I do think there’s darkness for every light,
And I’d have to defeat it, on some dark, dark night.
I know I’d refuse to make more than one equal,
Just as I know that an infinite sequel
Of life is not something my loved ones would take;
Eventually that life, they would wish to shake.
Whether hundreds or thousands, millions or more,
After some years of joy I’d be alone, for
As long as my powers are many and rife,
I could never bear to end my own life.
I would have to resort to using my might
Upon my own mind, to keep it from blight.
Blank out memories of things long since done,
Only to do them again, desperate for fun.
Forever alone, and knowing I’ll last
Forever and ever so all is soon passed,
I will end up making new lives to fill time,
Eschewing my soul for what may be a crime:
Attaching my senses to lives not my own,
Just to distract from my life as a drone.
That would be the end, in more than one way,
As I would be denied the right to pray,
I’d have to resort to ending what’s “me,”
Deleting all that I am; the ultimate fee.
 magic_doglover · Sat Oct 29, 2011 @ 02:37am · 1 Comments |
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