From the Grove to the Cross
by Joel Atkinson
The high places will come back again. The sacred groves shall grow tall and strong and bloom golden in the sun. They tried to burn them down for their god. Their lord. Yet still they grow. Up. Up. Up and out and over and through and beyond, beyond, beyond. Where are the Canaanites? The First Men? The source that went boom and brought us forth in a spectactular scattering of star and sky? We've gone from the cave to the calf to the cross and we're way past due for getting back to the cave. Hell, even the calf would be better.
So Moses came down off of the mountain with those big stone tablets in hand, still glowing from the glory of the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And when Moses saw that the Hebrews had brought forth from their fires a golden calf to worship, he was fairly unhappy to say the least. And people today will harp and harp about how wonderful it was for Moses and his god to smite the Hebrews because of their idolatries. How beautiful it was for their god to send them into other people's land and claim it for themselves. How holy it was for their god to command the tearing down of the natives' high places and the burning of their sacred groves. How good and pure it was for their god to require the slaughter of everyone and everything in the cities and tribes, even the evil little babies and their filthy pets.
And as time passed the people of god did so well with the giving up of their idols. Moses would be so proud today if he could see his little loving children not worshipping any idols at all. No crosses. No holy cities. No book. No buildings. No creeds. No hollywood Mel Gibson marketing ploy tokens of greed and shallowness like the nails on a string those fuckers sell. Nah. The modern followers of the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob don't worship idols at all. They've moved way way beyond that.
So why the fixation on the cross? Really, if that thing's not an idol, then let the experts therefore take the very word 'idol' out of the dictionary, every dictionary in fact. If the wooden bloody cross is not an idol then there is not now nor was there ever such a thing as an idol. If the wooden bloody and suddenly golden cross is not an idol, then allow me the privilege of smashing one to pieces for the passing throng to see without being shouted down like some filthy blasphemer. But surely they will argue that's it's only a symbol and so I suppose I will concede, if only for the sake of argument. It's not an idol...it's a weapon.
Yes, that's what the thorny bloody wooden cross is...a weapon. A big holy bludgeoning stick that has such a long reach it can be used to beat the shit out of virtually anyone. The homeless guy on the street, for example. He's well within the reach of the cross, so long as the crossbearer tempts him within range through the dangling of a little food or money before his watery mouth and outstretched hand. Get the sinners close enough with something they need, like food or fun games, and WHAM! right over the head. Easy catch. Drag the unconscious homeless guy back to your cave, mount him, and you've got a brand new bitch. Then brand his ass with a flaming red cross, be sure to firmly attach a thorny collar to his worldly neck while holding hard to the black leather leash, and tell him to go bring in more lost wicked sinful nonchristians.
Well, I'm sorry to disappoint these crazy bunch of inmates, but I'm just not going to allow my spirit to be turned into a bitch for any man or any man's god. My spirit is my own to give to whom I damn well please, and it just so happens that my spirit is quite attached to those natural beauties which pervade my horizons. Those brown and green sentinels and blue breath skies which float just above the flowing seas of grass and sand, water and wine. Those high places and sacred groves burned down by thieves and robbers in the name of their tyrannical god.
Well, it seems my hypocrisy knows no bounds. Jesus said not to judge but I just cannot help myself. After all, I was always told by the experts to tell it like it is. I mean, Rush Limbaugh taught me that much. So, according to me, this is how it ought to be: everyone who's ever loved a god who burns down trees and steals away souls and land to build an army of faggot haters with licenses should get fucked. That's what I think. Then again, I could be the Antichrist. But really all I want is for the groves to grow tall and for the high places to rise higher. And let them try and burn them down again, I say. Let them try it.
The high places will come back again. The sacred groves shall grow tall and strong and bloom golden in the sun. They tried to burn them down for their god. Their lord. Yet still they grow. Up. Up. Up and out and over and through and beyond, beyond, beyond. Where are the Canaanites? The First Men? The source that went boom and brought us forth in a spectactular scattering of star and sky? We've gone from the cave to the calf to the cross and we're way past due for getting back to the cave. Hell, even the calf would be better.
So Moses came down off of the mountain with those big stone tablets in hand, still glowing from the glory of the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And when Moses saw that the Hebrews had brought forth from their fires a golden calf to worship, he was fairly unhappy to say the least. And people today will harp and harp about how wonderful it was for Moses and his god to smite the Hebrews because of their idolatries. How beautiful it was for their god to send them into other people's land and claim it for themselves. How holy it was for their god to command the tearing down of the natives' high places and the burning of their sacred groves. How good and pure it was for their god to require the slaughter of everyone and everything in the cities and tribes, even the evil little babies and their filthy pets.
And as time passed the people of god did so well with the giving up of their idols. Moses would be so proud today if he could see his little loving children not worshipping any idols at all. No crosses. No holy cities. No book. No buildings. No creeds. No hollywood Mel Gibson marketing ploy tokens of greed and shallowness like the nails on a string those fuckers sell. Nah. The modern followers of the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob don't worship idols at all. They've moved way way beyond that.
So why the fixation on the cross? Really, if that thing's not an idol, then let the experts therefore take the very word 'idol' out of the dictionary, every dictionary in fact. If the wooden bloody cross is not an idol then there is not now nor was there ever such a thing as an idol. If the wooden bloody and suddenly golden cross is not an idol, then allow me the privilege of smashing one to pieces for the passing throng to see without being shouted down like some filthy blasphemer. But surely they will argue that's it's only a symbol and so I suppose I will concede, if only for the sake of argument. It's not an idol...it's a weapon.
Yes, that's what the thorny bloody wooden cross is...a weapon. A big holy bludgeoning stick that has such a long reach it can be used to beat the shit out of virtually anyone. The homeless guy on the street, for example. He's well within the reach of the cross, so long as the crossbearer tempts him within range through the dangling of a little food or money before his watery mouth and outstretched hand. Get the sinners close enough with something they need, like food or fun games, and WHAM! right over the head. Easy catch. Drag the unconscious homeless guy back to your cave, mount him, and you've got a brand new bitch. Then brand his ass with a flaming red cross, be sure to firmly attach a thorny collar to his worldly neck while holding hard to the black leather leash, and tell him to go bring in more lost wicked sinful nonchristians.
Well, I'm sorry to disappoint these crazy bunch of inmates, but I'm just not going to allow my spirit to be turned into a bitch for any man or any man's god. My spirit is my own to give to whom I damn well please, and it just so happens that my spirit is quite attached to those natural beauties which pervade my horizons. Those brown and green sentinels and blue breath skies which float just above the flowing seas of grass and sand, water and wine. Those high places and sacred groves burned down by thieves and robbers in the name of their tyrannical god.
Well, it seems my hypocrisy knows no bounds. Jesus said not to judge but I just cannot help myself. After all, I was always told by the experts to tell it like it is. I mean, Rush Limbaugh taught me that much. So, according to me, this is how it ought to be: everyone who's ever loved a god who burns down trees and steals away souls and land to build an army of faggot haters with licenses should get fucked. That's what I think. Then again, I could be the Antichrist. But really all I want is for the groves to grow tall and for the high places to rise higher. And let them try and burn them down again, I say. Let them try it.
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