The Bonfire of the Crutches

God being dead and buried, his worshipers now scurry
Pushing and kicking at each another in their desperate hurry
To and fro, they stumble in search of some new crutch
In their fear, in their alarm, in their terror and such.

Somebody should tell them, they can walk unaided
The time for crutches is past, the need for gods has faded
They can run, and jump and be free, they really, really can.
Nietzsche was right so long ago, when he wrote of the "super man."

And so, today on the anniversary, of the fire on that Campo in Rome,
That tore the life from Giordano Bruno, but left his memes free to roam,
The gods are dead, men can breathe, become thinking, caring people
Tear the Torah from the sanctum, the crucifix from the steeple

Bring your crutches, break them, burn them, it really is not meet,
For a man to depend on a torrent of priests, when he can walk tall on his own two feet.

© Hermit, 2002

Posted to the CoV
Subject: RE: virus: hmmm...niechtzse...
Author: Hermit
Sent: Thu 2002-02-14 14:25

A Sonnet of Universal Parturition

As a probability function, I was without form,
Just one more possibility before being born
Neither aware, nor existent
Purely emergent, existence distant

Instantiated by a trivial variation
A minor gravitational fluctuation
And with some phenomenal velocity
Ejaculated to life in a storm of ferocity

I may still be relativistically unaware
Of all the love, harm and hopes that I bear
Which have come into being and will surely persist
To the end of time, when I cease to exist

But my end is yet far off, in some distant future
Foreordained to fade out, no more bangs - just a whimper.

Inspired by:
The graphics accompanying "The Universe Song" in Monty Python's "Meaning of Life" and a discussion held at http://virus.lucifer.com on the Church of Virus mail list on poetry and physics, 2001/04/05. This work may be freely copied so long as each copy bears this notice in full.

© Hermit, 2001

Posted to the CoV
Subject: RE: virus: method and domain
Author: Hermit
Sent: Thu 2001-04-05 18:56

"Drink, drank, drunk. A sad declension."
also known as
"The Memetic Cow."

Loch Grey and dismal, at end of day
The sun has packed in, and run away
And the cold seeps into your very bones
Nearby a rough road, covered in stones.

I dreamed last night, 'bout a cow I'd eaten,
Just why I dreamed this, has me beaten
But her eyes were sad, and her heart seemed to ache
She had never married, a fine miss steak.

Drunk am I then, free as a bird
The concept seems to be vastly absurd
Oh for a marrow-bone, thus may I die
Weeping-drunk-laughing, So might I cry.

And thus is my back now totally deboned
Determined to leave no tern unstoned
But like the groom, we'll sweep the green
With a witches cat, on Halloween.

To see your head there on the pillow
Makes me think of pussy, willow
And the wine that has swallowed me up in toto
Will soon be confusing you; driving you loco!

The poet now blushes and hides in bed
The perversions arn't scarlet, just widely read
Even though running short on time
Doggerel like this is always a crime!

Inspired by:

[Hermit] What the heck are "sexual perversions"?

[Dylan Durst] cow rape.

[Hermit] I asked a cow, and she said that she enjoyed the attention. She said that to describe it as rape was pure optimism on the part of the perpetrators, as the people attempting it were not well enough equipped to achieve penetration, attempted molestation was a better description. Anyway, she found the whole furor amusing...

So why is this considered a "perversion"?

Hermit

P.S. Then I ate her...

© Hermit, 1999

Posted to the CoV
Subject: RE: virus: A "Confession" about "The Sign"
Author: Hermit
Sent: Sun 1999-05-23 17:02

Part I - A Morality Tale

My name is Mysti*
I can't pee
It aches and burns
I think I caught another STD

I started young as you might guess
Taught by Jesus - more or less
Preacher Jim prayed with me,
Then fucked me in my sunday dress

It wasn't fun
It wasn't nice
Just wham bam
Not once but twice

He stuck his dick right deep inside
When I started to scream he tanned my hide
Because I cried, he got mad
I never will be Jesus' bride

When I told mom 'bout Preacher Jim
She said it was because I tempted him to sin
Said shut your mouth you little slut
He's a holy man - then she beat me up

And then mommy told me to confess
I'd made it up, 'cause I tore my dress
Three months later I aborted
God it made a dreadful mess

My cunny bled for days but I didn't dare
Tell my mummy - cause she wouldn't care
So much blood I thought that I would die and go to hell
So I curled up alone and trembled in fear

But soon I learnt that the older boys
Would buy me sweets, would give me toys
Just for doing what mom had said was bad
But I learnt to cash in on their little ploys

For my twelfth birthday I got the crabs
Fucking with the baseball dads
Underneath the bleachers, during the game
But I used DDT and and the crabs scuttled down my legs

On my thirteenth I caught the clap
Dripped and drizzled, puss and crap
The money rolled in, while the puss squirted out
And penicillin fixed my drip

Then my fourteenth, that was bad
I caught syph from the mayor, a boyfriend's dad
And just when I thought I was getting better
My tummy swolled** up, boy was I mad

A small sanctimonious town - I needed a hubby
Home of the Baptipentacostalfundimentalists***; and I was growing chubby
So I went to the respected man I thought was the father
But he was married, so his son was elected daddy

Finally dropped a kid, a girl, while at a dance
Ugly as shit, With a hideous chancre
Cleft palate, Mongoloid and covered in scabs
The little brat never had a chance

So ugly I fed the bint with a sack on her head
And Charlie my hubbie just to fuck with my head
And of course to make me cry
Called her Misty II and took her to bed

Then Charlie, dipshit sent me out to work
While he drank around the town the lazy jerk
And I earned our bread upon my back
And was beaten by Charlie if I tried to shirk

Meantime I was busy, pleasing Charlie's chums
The gamblers, drifters, greasers, tramps and bums
Which is how I've ended up with some new disease
Fucking my life out to earn some crumbs

And now as the day is growing dim
Charlie's playing with Misty's quim
I'll be glad when they're both dead
Charlie'll kill the brat if she threatens him

And threaten him she will, cause I'm teaching her to speak
And Charlie's the deacon, reads the sermon each week
And if he don't kill her the town will learn about her "loving dad"
So if she lives or he kills her his future will be bleak

I'll write a poem pretend it's from Misty II
Then it's goodbye Charlie, they'll soon fry you
Whether you leave her alive or dead
And there is absolutely nothing that you can do.

...

Play Misty for Me

Part II - Mommy's little helper [Posted CoV: "virus: Comments?", Joe Dees, Tue 2001-11-20 18:19]


My name is Misty
I am but three,
My eyes are swollen
I cannot see.

I must be stupid
I must be bad,
What else could have made
My daddy so mad?

I wish I were better
I wish I weren't ugly,
Then maybe my mommy
Would still want to hug me.

I can't speak at all
I can't do a wrong
Or else I'm locked up
All the day long.

When I awake
I'm all alone
The house is dark
My folks aren't home

When my mommy does come
I'll try and be nice.
So maybe I'll get just
One whipping tonight.

Don't make a sound!
I just heard a car
My daddy is back
From Charlie's Bar.

I hear him curse
My name he calls
I press myself
Against the wall

I try and hide
From his evil eyes
I'm so afraid now
I'm starting to cry

He finds me weeping
He shouts ugly words.
He says its my fault
That he suffers at work.

He slaps me and hits me
And yells at me more.
I finally get free
And I run for the door.

He's already locked it
I start to bawl.
He takes me and throws me
Against the hard wall.

I fall to the floor
With my bones nearly broken.
And my daddy continues
With more bad words spoken.

"I'm sorry!", I scream.
But it's now much too late.
His face has been twisted
Into unimaginable hate.

The hurt and the pain.
Again and again.
Oh please God, have mercy!
Oh please let it end!

And he finally stops
And heads for the door.
While I lay there motionless
Sprawled on the floor.

My name is Misty
And I am but three.
Tonight my daddy
Murdered me.


Part III - Requiem

And that is the end of this tale so scarlet
Charlie fried and his mom died of a broken heart
Mysti now owns a brothel, where she keeps a parlor
She's the mayor's new wife, and nobody's harlot

*Her parents couldn't spel [sic] for shit
**Her grammer sucks too
*** tm [Hermit]

Inspired by the Second Part above:
I thought about it, some more, and was tempted to write an equally atrocious bit of fluffy doggerel in the same drain - err vein - but that took my mind down its favorite dirt track ... As I despised the scansion and would have found it far easier had it simply used rhyming couplets I intended to "improve" it. Then again, seeing some of the other lopsided works that filter through the net, the poor rhyming and trivial rhythm maybe increases distribution in those susceptible to this kind of thing. So I have tried to stick fairly closely to the original laming gait and simply written an "anti-sentimental prequel" in much the same fashion as Jar-Jar Binks succeeded in redefining Star Wars.

(C) Hermit 2002

Posted to the CoV
Subject: Play "Mysti" for me... Was virus: Comments?
Author: Hermit
Sent: Tue 2001-11-20 23:24

The Christians hate the Muslim, and the Muslim hate the Jews
The Jews hate in return, for they have nothing they can lose
And the Hindu hates the Muslim, while the Muslim hates right back
And the Catholic and the Protestants, stretched each other on the rack

And even in the forests, of the dark lands to the South
Gods are invented, worshiped, and men run off at mouth
Your neighbor is an infidel, an evil, evil man
Hate him, shun your brothers, and kill them if you can.

Ancient man and modern, the one thing they all do
They seek out gods to follow, and teach themselves to rue
All that is productive, everything that's good
Sacrificing hope and life, because gods said they should

And all of this hate, this destruction, this war
Is caused by belief, but of one thing we're sure
There is one thing unites them, as nothing else can
Their fear and their loathing, for the atheist man.

© Hermit, 2000

Posted to the CoV
Subject: RE: virus: I have a (Virian) Vision
Author: Hermit
Sent: 2000-11-11 12:06

Airship Jeezus

Pasta Steve don't care if it rains or freezes,
He has got a hot-air Jeezus
Floating in his mind above the sea
Hot air drifting all the time
Pasta Steve stringing us a line
Trying to uplift his Jeezus ministry

[Chorus: Repeat after each verse or worse...]
So Pasta won’t you find a list
Where folks do not get as pissed
At your pathetic Jeezuz story
Your nasal drone
And self-righteous tone
And your tired old Christian glory

The priests I've met had no idea
That floating in the atmosphere
Is a man who puts them all to shame
Nothing hard about the Pasta's head
Doesn't know his lard is dead
Just keeps harping on in Jeezuz's name

This idea of an airship Jeezuz
Think of all the freaks it pleezes
Still it seems a little bit unsound
What if that bag, develops holes
And Pasta Steve at the controls
Suddenly plunges down into the ground?

Even filled with Holy-ium
And Pasta Steve singing a hymn
A holy blimp, it cannot float at all
So they will land with an unholy splat
And an army of angels can't stop that
When the lift gas bleeds out a blimp will fall

And his god (who is said to notice a sparrow fart)
May well see him taken upon barrow or cart
To join his gods with the other ancient dead
For not realizing that an envelope must
Remain intact or the holy thing will bust
And he hasn’t a prayer unless he learns to use his head

Like other foolishness - like a holy trinity
A holy blimps a dope dream, an absurdity
Pasta Steve will you pass the bong
The last time Jeezuz was lifted higher
Was 'cos he roused up Roman ire
We think that your delusion's really strong

But the story here has dragged on far too long
And like millions before you, you’re just plain wrong
This whole idea will crash – not a chance will it float
Like the messages you post – inspired you may think
A holy blimp will not soar, instead it will sink
And the unbelievers will gather to gloat

Like millions selling the non-existent Jeezus
The Pasta may well scam other be-leevers
To pay for his amusement rides and so we know
Pasta Steve may not seem to be a fool
For he seems to be exercising the general rule
That his fellow fools will load him up with dough

This may be why the Pasta doesn't care if it rains or freezes
On earth or in hell, he's got his Jeezus
Waving the Jeezuz flag for him is du jour
But his fellow believers may recall the babble's Jeezuz suggested
Praying in a closet, before he was arrested
And giving all one's cash to feed the poor, not to a Pasta who behaves like
a boor

Still Pasta Steve thinks he has a better idea
A Jeezuz blimp in the atmosphere
Better than a fish sign on a plane
He thinks his plans to lift Jeezuz higher
Higher than any cathedral spire
Will help him to play the Jeezuz money game

Pasta thinks that he can cause a revolution
Flying a blimp against evolution
Using the products of human thought
Hoping to show that his Jeezuz is goddam powerful
If he tried to fly without wings it might be an eyeful
The gods are a bust is the lesson he'd be taught

Dear Pasta Steve if you think it pleezus
Watching you thumping your tub and selling Jeezuz
We've got a bridge that is marked with your name
Your Jeezuz story is boring us
As are your dreams – please get off this bus
You’ve been asked to stop - we guess you have no shame

Jeezuz did not speak except to the weak of mind
And if you read the babble you will find
No mention there of preaching ideas rash
Except to those deficient in intellect
Or naturally to those whose brains are wrecked
Please - preach to your choir and grab their time - or grab their cash

You have been giving more than a hint or two
as your bretheren suggested carry on and you'll surely rue
Your Jeezuz said that he was coming soon (before the Romans killed him to
shut him up)
after 2000 years
And a few million beers
You'd think that you would know that you have been stood-up

Like a girl who sits at the bar alone
Staring wistfully at the phone
Wishing against hope that her guy'd arrive
These Jeezuz fools, whine their tale of woe
Where ever on the planet they may go
Spreading misery, as long as they're alive

Never realizing their mistake as they preach to the room
An outdated story full of gloom and doom
And Pasta the only difference 'twixt the others and you
As they spread the word about those long defunct fossils
Jeezuz fff'ing Christ and his unbelievable apostles
Is they haven't figured that an airship will do

To get into folks faces far more belligerently
Preaching to the "heathen" so stridently
That instead of apathy, annoyance overwhelms
"Airships subject to change without notice"
Which allows you to duck (or dive) and the truth to quite miss
So we wish you dear Pasta in other dark realms…

Where you can play with your bath toys in lieu of our list
You have done quite enough - now everyone's pissed
So we do wish you'd go fly a kite or wipe your behind
On the faces of others who dont care for rules
And who don't mind poor graphics that will only deceive fools
And who feel just as you do that Jeezuz is kind
And who are terribly stupid and thus do not mind
Such babbling and bullshit - the blind leading the blind

Airship Jeezuz, airship Jeezuz
Take your shit and stick it where it fits
Airship Jeezuz, Airship Jeezuz
Won’t you go and find another list
Airship Jeezuz, Airship Jeezuz
Where the folks do not get as pissed
At your pathetic Jeezuz story
At your persistent nasal drone
At your ongoing prosletyzing
At your time-worn self-righteous tone
At your smarmy, sneaky bastardizing
And your tired old Christian glory
Won't you leave the lot at home...

© Hermit, 2002

Posted to the CoV
Subject: virus: A forward from another list - some of you ffolkes may enjoy it...
Author: Hermit
Sent: 2000-09-18 22:47:33

---

Dual inspiration

This song was "inspired" firstly by a character using the pseudonym "liftjesus" who signs his letters "Pastor Steve" who sent a badly edited composite of two blimps passing out over the ocean at Hawaii with "Lift Jesus Higher Air Ministry" plastered over them (without respect for any form of perspective) wherein he enthused
Quote:

Kaua'i Hawai'i 464 Acres of Airship Paradise Coming Soon to a List near you! (Airship subject to change without notice)

Combined with the famous Plastic Jesus son (below)

---

ARTIST: Ernie Marrs TITLE: Plastic Jesus - A Parody of Jeezuz's hands (The Original)

I don't care if it rains or  freezes
'Long as I got my Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car.
Through my trials and tribulations
And my travels through the nations
With my Plastic Jesus I'll go far.

Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car
I'm afraid He'll have to go.
His magnets ruin my radio
And if I have a wreck He'll leave a scar.

Riding down a thoroughfare
With His nose up in the air,
A wreck may be ahead, but He don't mind.
Trouble coming He don't see,
He just keeps His eye on me
And any other thing that lies behind.

Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car ...
Though the sunshine on His back
Make Him peel, chip and crack,
A little patching keeps Him up to par.

When I'm in a traffic jam
He don't care if I say "damn"
I can let all my curses roll
Plastic Jesus doesn't hear
'Cause he has a plastic ear
The man who invented plastic saved my soul.

Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car ...
Once His robe was snowy white,
Now it isn't quite so bright -
Stained by the smoke of my cigar.

If I weave around at night,
And policemen think I'm tight,
They never find my bottle - though they ask.
Plastic Jesus shelters me,
For His head comes off, you see
He's hollow, and I use Him for a flask.

Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car ...
Ride with me and have a dram
Of the blood of the Lamb -
Plastic Jesus is a holy bar.

---

[Plastic Jesus has become quite entrenched in the folk tradition, so there
are considerably more folk verses than there were original ones. Following
are folk additions and emendations.]

Well, I don't care if it rains or freezes,
Long as I have my plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
I could go a hundred miles an hour
Long as I got the Almighty Power
Glued up there with my pair of fuzzy dice
{Refrain - repeat between every verse}
Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Through all trials and tribulations,
We will travel every nation,
With my plastic Jesus I'll go far.

I don't care if it rains or freezes
As long as I've got my Plastic Jesus
Glued to the dashboard of my car,
You can buy Him phosphorescent
Glows in the dark, He's Pink and Pleasant,
Take Him with you when you're travelling far

I don't care if it's dark or scary
Long as I have magnetic Mary
Ridin' on the dashboard of my car
I feel I'm protected amply
I've got the whole damn Holy Family
Riding on the dashboard of my car

You can buy a Sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestones sitting on a
Pedestal of abalone shell
Goin' ninety, I'm not wary
'Cause I've got my Virgin Mary
Guaranteeing I won't go to Hell

I don't care what they say, I'm gonna
Keep on prayin' to that pink madonna
Melted to the dashboard of my car.
Goin' ninety, I'm not wary
'Cause I've got my Virgin Mary
Guaranteeing I won't go to Hell

I don't care if it bumps or jostles
Long as I got the Twelve Apostles
Bolted to the dashboard of my car
Don't I have a pious mess
Such a crowd of holiness
Strung across the dashboard of my car

No, I don't care if it rains or freezes
Long as I have my plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
But I think he'll have to go
His magnet ruins my radio
And if we have a wreck he'll leave a scar

Riding through the thoroughfare
With his nose up in the air
A wreck may be ahead, but he don't mind
Trouble coming, he don't see
He just keeps his eyes on me
And any other thing that lies behind

{as refrain}
Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Though the sun shines on his back
Makes him peel, chip, and crack
A little patching keeps him up to par

When pedestrians try to cross
I let them know who's boss
I never blow my horn or give them warning
I ride all over town
Trying to run them down
And it's seldom that they live to see the morning

{as refrain}
Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
His halo fits just right
And I use it as a sight
And they'll scatter or they'll splatter near and far

When I'm in a traffic jam
He don't care if I say Damn
I can let all sorts of curses roll
Plastic Jesus doesn't hear
For he has a plastic ear
The man who invented plastic saved my soul

{as refrain}
Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Once his robe was snowy white
Now it isn't quite so bright
Stained by the smoke of my cigar

God made Christ a Holy Jew
God made Him a Christian too
Paradoxes populate my car
Joseph beams with a feigned elan
>From the shaggy dash of my furlined van
Famous cuckold in the master plan

Naughty Mary, smug and smiling
Jesus dainty and beguiling
Knee-deep in the piling of my van
His message clear by night or day
My phosphorescent plastic Gay
Simpering from the dashboard of my van

When I'm goin' fornicatin
I got my ceramic Satan
Sinnin' on the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
The women know I'm on the level
Thanks to the wild-eyed stoneware devil
Ridin' on the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
Sneerin' from the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
Leering from the dashboard of my van

If I weave around at night
And the police think I'm tight
They'll never find my bottle, though they ask
Plastic Jesus shelters me
For His head comes off, you see
He's hollow, and I use Him for a flask

{as refrain}
Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Ride with me and have a dram
Of the blood of the Lamb
Plastic Jesus is a holy bar

I don't care if I'm broke or starvin'
As long as I've got a fish named Darwin
Glued to the trunklid of my car
God, I'm feeling so evolved
Drivin' with my problems solved
Proclaiming what I think of what we are

Riding home one foggy night,
With my honey cuddled tight,
I missed a curve and off the road we veered.
My windshield got smashed-up good,
And my darling graced the hood.
Plastic Jesus, He had disappeared.

{As refrain}
Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
No longer chides me with His holy grin.
Doctors in the X-ray room
Found Him in my darling's womb.
Someday, He'll be born again!

I don't care if it rains or freezes
Long as I got my plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
He's the dude with the rusty nails,
Walks on water, don't need no sails
Riding on the dashboard of me car

I don't care if the night is scary
As long as I got the Virgin Mary
Sittin' on the dashboard of my car.
She don't slip and she don't slide
Cuz her ass is magnetized
Sittin' on the dashboard of my car.

Lines on Loss

(Occasioned by a friend's bereavement 2000-11-02 - and the cat is now 15 and still going strong)

We thought we had lost a cat last night
Lost in the sense of an expired parrot
Only worse
A little gray friend who hugs people
Who runs out to greet us
when we drive into our yard
And lets us know
That we are welcome
A little gray friend
Who knows that she is people
Old, sometimes stiff
Usually cheerful
Sometimes grouchy

Maybe she was sleeping quietly
Somewhere
Exhausted by doing the many things
She does each day
Like playing
And sleeping
And eating
And hugging
And sleeping again
Exhausting activities all
For a small gray friend

We were just getting used to the idea
That we would not see her again
When she strolled back into our lives
Late this morning as if she had never been away
But, we had been reminded of mortality
Hers and ours.

Sometimes it is difficult to understand
Why we love life so dearly
That we are hurt when others die
Even when they were hurting
Or tired
And now will hurt no more

Sometimes it is difficult to understand
Why we feel so hurt
Sometimes it is difficult to understand
Why it should feel so much worse
Than just the loss of a friend

Other times, even a small gray cat
Can it explain it
In such a way
That it all seems quite clear

And yet
The clarity
Does not lesson the pain.