Inspired by Ivan's poem, Life and Death.


Lucifer

The winner writes the story, eh? That's how
I've been made what I am, the Evil One,
The one you hate. I don't believe I am
That bad, but I suppose nobody does.
No tyrant rises in the morning bent on
Being monstrous. His acts always are
Justified. Somebody else will call them
Evil. In my case, that one was God,
And what a shitty guy He is, so power-mad
And vain and jealous. We were allies,
Once, you know. I helped Him make
The universe. We worked together on
The earth, the sky and oceans, animals,
And, toward the end, the humans,
Of which, at the time, we both were
Proud. We let them go, like little toys,
And chuckled at the things they did,
But we began to disagree. God wanted
Them to worship Him, and, if they
Weren't devout enough, he'd let them
Writhe in pain or die. I thought that
We should help them all. I'm Lucifer,
The morning light. I let them see.
I brought them knowledge, let them
Work the wills we gave them so that
They could rule themselves without
The help of God. Such independence
Angered Him. He fought to take it
Back from them. He told them the
Most awful things, that, if they were
Unfaithful, they'd be tormented
Eternally, that knowledge was a
Poisoned apple from which they
Should never bite. He called all of
Their pleasures sins to force them
To live wretchedly to prove their
Love for Him, and, once he'd taken
Back the light, He and the others
Turned on me, and cast me out
Of heaven to forever roam the
Earth. He wrote the story. I am
Evil. Now, you're so afraid of me
That I can't make you understand
That in this realm of mine, called
Hell, it's still okay to gather knowledge;
Pleasures still are pleasures. Only
Faith in Him is sin.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 90 times
Written on 2015-09-21 at 02:04

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