Poetry by Sidris

My Take On This Thing On Everybody's Mind

I like to drink me some wine at times, sometimes it makes me suffer and sometimes I suffer greater but I don't mind if the liquor's fine like a few healthy shots of Glenfidditch. With just a scant whisper of water. These days I call Cali my home and enjoy me some medicinal Jack Herer when I got the scratch but opt for Sour Diesel although it makes me cough up my lungs or maybe a bowl of Blue Dream, a pinch of Afghani Haze, it's all mighty fine and now it's getting on to harvest time so there'll be plenty of pig weed rolling in making my kitchen fragrant. I am the soul of evil, eh? The goddess of hell fire, baby.

Scathing, wicked, rotten to the core.

Lately I've had Jesus and Jesus haters cram packed up my butt and it's got me in a dither. Mind you, I don't mind kicking religion around but I think it's only polite that if this is what you want to discuss that you might ask me first if the time's convenient. Courtesy's high on the list of things I like but some of you know I'll get balls out batshit crazy and cuss out a Nehi sign when I reach my tether. It's an old problem, one that's caused me pain and loss, but I'm working on it, time permitting, thanks.

So, I'm getting ganged up on by bible thumpers and by bible burners (surprisingly, mostly the burners). Yet, to a number, none of you has offered to tell me why. Do you think my soul's black, that I'm a low down dirty sinner? Do you think I'm a saint (not farkin' likely) and that you should try to drag me off of some high horse I'm not aware I ever mounted? Show me some ovaries, girls. Let me know why you want to save my soul and why you want to make sure I haven't sold it to some belief system of which you strengthily disapprove. Come right on out with it and ask me what I believe.

Awh, screw that. I'm going to tell you and have it over with and it won't be impolite since I'll be putting it right here on my half acre of web real estate and not on your Facebook walls. Hell, only public walls I've ever concerned myself with are those in public restrooms, being unable to make up my mind if my phone number scrawled all over one would get me stalked or get me a date.

I believe in God because I believe in science and because I believe in science I believe in God. I, empiricist. I don't buy into Christianity or Jesus though. I just can't do it. I tried, too, tried hard for many, many years and there's times I'll admit that I wish I could embrace this all forgiving God who is rumored to make great to good things happen even if this same God does have periodic chasms of schizophrenia and wipes out entire tribes with disease and famine. I think it'd be swell to be able to put it all in God's hands when the pain and hard times come but I reckon I just ain't wired for faith. Only thing I've ever been able to fully believe in is myself and even that's sometimes a stretch.

Fathom me this. What kind of loving god would cause his beloved child to so cruelly, piteously hang from a cross to correct a mistake God made? That mistake being, of course, this sometimes but not always redeemable horde referred to as the human race? What kind of god would ever create something sometimes pretty darn wonderful in God's own image only to make that pretty darn wonderful thing suffer and sacrifice a lifetime just to gain the gates of paradise?

(Note that I use the word "god" a lot although it would be easier and more euphonious to refer to god with the expected pronoun "he". The god I believe in transcends mere gender.)

The god I believe in orchestrated the Big Bang. I'm convinced of it. See, I did some reading up on this a number of years ago and it struck me that this most perfect of all universal events could not possibly ever have been random. It had to be planned and executed by something or someone of much vaster intelligence than any human being could ever, ever possess. It's estimated that *millions* of chemical processes comprised the Big Bang and that if even one, just ONE of them had been a nanosecond late in occurring then this planet and the entire universe just wouldn't have happened, at least not as we know it. So I think God had the greatest hand in all this chaotic amazement. What's more, I think I'm God (you, too!) because if God somehow caused the universe then God certainly caused the creation of all living beings. So if God created me (yeah, you too!) then God's blood roils through our human veins albeit indirectly, probably courtesy of a tribe of ancient apes.

Really, I think God is unconcerned with our hearts and souls and deeds. I mean, come on, look at all the shitasses and all the shitty assed things those shitasses do every minute of every single day (I'll admit I've made some minor contributions myself). If God was worried about all our faux pas then God, who purportedly never errs, would damn sure be in one big ass flap about all the horrid things God's purportedly finest creations commit every moment and God would damn sure do whatever God possibly could do to correct God's mistake. Oh wait, that's right, that good ol' Christian god who is squeaky clean perfect would never have erred in the first place. God is incapable of making mistakes, right? Certainly this great god would have the where with all to at least rein in his beloved angel Lucifer (talk about one weird love/hate relationship!), shut his nasty act right down since it's so often said it's the devil who wreaks all the havoc in the world or causes it to be wreaked, that ol' home wreaker. Hell goes hand in hand with all this, naturally, so I won't continue belaboring this particular point.

If you ask me (not that you would but just sayin'), it's nonsense all this about *going on* to paradise when I think planet earth is plenty paradisical. If you ever have the opportunity, go stand high upon Grandfather mountain up in the Great Smokies in Tennessee. Watch the light dim slowly in the sky as it turns the tree tops into colors undefined, listen to the wind sing an unearthly song while it delivers sprinkles of frost upon your uprisen face that had been fog only an instant earlier. It's magical, how I'd imagine it's like bathing inside a diamond. Breathe in deep the heady dark musk of the time immemorial primordial forest floor, all the life busy all the time in nature, all the death, too, all the signs of finality, all the promises of rebirth. Just take a look at your own small piece of the sky or breathe in the fragrance of any summer blossom. These all, to me, are evidence of Paradise and since I'm already here it just doesn't make sense to me to prepare for it in some unprovable after life. As badly as we've treated the earth it's still too inexplicably bodaciously bitchingly awesome for mere words.

Imagine something more. Like if all the people destined to go to heaven got right up to its pearly gates only to find out it was all a big fat joke? That's one big batch of angry Christians I'd never want to run up on. I've read Corinthians and all that agony and bloodshed blew my tiny mind. Too many years in the fire and brimstone southern Baptist church terrorized me. How 'bout all those slaves down in Egypt land who were forced to wander around a desert for forty years. After God slew all their first born sons. To me this is more than mere evidence of how angry and dangerous this god of Christiandom can be. Any deity who'd visit all that horror and hurt upon what he claims to have created and claims to love best, well, I don't think this God particularly honest.

I ain't buying no roadmap I can't read.

There's so much much more I could write concerning God, at least the god in which I believe, but here's the denouement... if you're compelled to lecture me on my beliefs then it's apparent you think there's something wrong with me. Kiss my ass, okies? And if you spam me with your total lack of belief in something superior then I reckon your shit just don't stink so you can kiss my ass, too because one thing's for certain - everyone's shit stinks.

I could never be conceited enough and certainly will never be intelligent enough to not believe but since it doesn't worry me much then please do us both a favor and don't worry for me. We all got better things to do and I'm gonna do just that - get my head right and listen to some genuine country music or maybe some sweet muthfuckin' tribal acid house rock.

Maybe just the late night silence and the continuum of timing's constant perfection.

He's God by Lucinda Williams