she wanted him to come....
she really wished him to...
she knew he wont...
she waited still....
by zaid al baset
Friday, November 23, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
THE LIGHT-BEARER
His plans seemed crazy, but crazy enough to work.
He remembered that night as he lay under Michael, pinned down. Michael, as fierce as a spearing lily, the very likeness of the one he loved.
He had loved God. No one understood that, so on that crazy night, he had made that crazier plan, to take heaven (did he think he could succeed?), to storm his throne, to fling him down on the floor. To tell him he was wrong to anoint man. Lucifer, light-bearer, handsomest and wisest of angels. Why did God spend so much time over puny man?
Man had eyed him. Always so easy to tempt, always bored with the perfect. In that garden where he lay. Lucifer wanted to hurt God…
He saw god flogged. He saw him whipped. Crucifigo, crucifigo, he had veiled himself in red, and shouted from the crowd with the voice of a harlot. God lay like a rose on snow, and his blood trailed down the thighs, just as Lucifer wanted.
As a lily and a rose. Blood brought the end of winter.
Adam had been so easy to take. But why did God kill himself?
For three days he had waited. When he saw the empty cave, he had screamed. He wanted God to live. He needed him. He hated that need.
And those processions in the circus. Bent over, they cried, the wolves leapt upon them, and the lions. Catarina on the wheel. Sebastian pierced by darts of fire. What lash of sin could compare with the lust in their eyes as they were hit, kicked?
Outcastes who had defeated Lucifer.
Sweet defeat, he thought, as he lay under Michael's spear. Transfixed, he had been fascinated by the liturgical vestments. The rush of blood as the censers moved.The bread turning to flesh, the wine to blood. Heady. As a summer's storm, a whirlwind. The spires lifting their hands like an evening prayer.
Alleluia, alleluia, he cried out with the voice of the archangel..
He had always wanted to be defeated. He had watched his love even as he had snaked into Adam.
That was the craziness of his plan, its magic. His reason, his insanity."Let my soul burn as incense in your altar", he cried.
He would wash himself with hyssop.
And God would lie him down in the green pastures, he would gambol with the sun.
-Scio Amo
He remembered that night as he lay under Michael, pinned down. Michael, as fierce as a spearing lily, the very likeness of the one he loved.
He had loved God. No one understood that, so on that crazy night, he had made that crazier plan, to take heaven (did he think he could succeed?), to storm his throne, to fling him down on the floor. To tell him he was wrong to anoint man. Lucifer, light-bearer, handsomest and wisest of angels. Why did God spend so much time over puny man?
Man had eyed him. Always so easy to tempt, always bored with the perfect. In that garden where he lay. Lucifer wanted to hurt God…
He saw god flogged. He saw him whipped. Crucifigo, crucifigo, he had veiled himself in red, and shouted from the crowd with the voice of a harlot. God lay like a rose on snow, and his blood trailed down the thighs, just as Lucifer wanted.
As a lily and a rose. Blood brought the end of winter.
Adam had been so easy to take. But why did God kill himself?
For three days he had waited. When he saw the empty cave, he had screamed. He wanted God to live. He needed him. He hated that need.
And those processions in the circus. Bent over, they cried, the wolves leapt upon them, and the lions. Catarina on the wheel. Sebastian pierced by darts of fire. What lash of sin could compare with the lust in their eyes as they were hit, kicked?
Outcastes who had defeated Lucifer.
Sweet defeat, he thought, as he lay under Michael's spear. Transfixed, he had been fascinated by the liturgical vestments. The rush of blood as the censers moved.The bread turning to flesh, the wine to blood. Heady. As a summer's storm, a whirlwind. The spires lifting their hands like an evening prayer.
Alleluia, alleluia, he cried out with the voice of the archangel..
He had always wanted to be defeated. He had watched his love even as he had snaked into Adam.
That was the craziness of his plan, its magic. His reason, his insanity."Let my soul burn as incense in your altar", he cried.
He would wash himself with hyssop.
And God would lie him down in the green pastures, he would gambol with the sun.
-Scio Amo
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