Tag Archives: job

5th of April 4th, 1984…

“what does the LORD require of you but to do justice…”

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One of the Bible’s (OT and/or NT) foremost statements, mentions God’s topmost requirements from mankind, which is “to love/do justice…”
Well, if mankind’s self-righteous, mostly fundamentalist “christian” crowd would heed this basic advice, they would have to stone their god and his accomplices, simply because these scriptural books are by far, whosoever’s most blatant record of injustice against mostly unsuspecting innocents.
My inner rage against this sadistic display of injustice is paired only by a cancerous pain and sorrow for the countless victims of this merciless religion, closely followed by it’s prequel, judaism, and it’s sequel, islam, all just patched-up versions of ancient, human sacrifices requesting religions.
Because it’s utterly hard for me to decide if child sacrifices to Moloch were more vicious than leaving an entire nation to centuries of Egyptian slavery, or the sacrifice of a god’s son for the “sins” of others, or the raising to power of a god’s inquisitorial vicars, or eventually the public maiming of petty thieves, or hanging of infidels…
To expect the love of justice from heirs of countless generations of victims of gross injustice, amounts to a sadism against which the Inquisition’s methods could be considered as mere colloquialism.
A “story” we were told by one of the most idiotic zealots to call himself a “pastor” I have ever encountered, story which regardless if true or purely fictional, would make nevertheless a good point to what this so called “justice” is all about.
The tale speaks about soviet psychopath Joseph Stalin, inviting a western official to a protocol visit to his Kremlin. After usualties, the guest(s) asks Stalin about how could such a system manage to keep such a large nation into what couldn’t be called as less than oppressed submission? Stalin asked one of his attendants to bring him in, a live chicken. To the obvious shock of his guest(s), Stalin proceeds to pluck all poor live chicken’s feathers off, causing visible and violent injuries, and wounds to the innocent bird. He then calmly throws a handful of breadcrumbs on his own booted feet, laying the scared animal nearby. After a few moments of confusion, and as if nothing seems to have happened, the bleeding, naked bird starts to obnoxiously pick up the crumbs, feeding from atop the boots still sustaining the hands which savagely tortured her.
“You see?”, asked Stalin of his quietly shocked guests, “you can do whatever you want to your people, as long as you remember to feed them…”
Doesn’t this tragically resemble to all bleeding and naked religious yard-birds, thankfully saying “grace” over the usually just-about sufficient meals “provided” by the same god who just some weeks or months or years ago have maybe killed their children, husbands or wives, parents or any other loved ones, silently allowed a few world wars, a few holocausts, scripturally condones slavery, genocide, infanticide, just to name a few of these “how can’t you see” ones?
Unfortunately though, not all naked and wounded human chicken of this world have access to the scarcely provided crumbs.
The poor majority linger in overcrowded social ghettoes, silently awaiting for their well-fed gods to remember them when the time for the next culling-war of the useless’ time has come…
Allow me please, to leave you with some food-for-thought.
About some more than a decade ago, I was part of christian prison ministry, which included the highest security prison of a central European country. Only life-terms, over twenty years imprisonment for multiple and/or aggravated murder and others as such were given the “privilege” to “live” there.
On one occasion, the team leading pastor drifted downstairs with a group of Q&A, leaving me behind, alone and scared with the rest of this “elite” crowd…
One particular individual stood my way towering over my own more than 6 feet with his  7 feet and over 150 kg, asking the following:
“Is it worth being faithful to god and his commandments?”
“Of course,” I replied, “because god is love, and he has the best plan for all of us, regardless of what we’ve done!”
To which he sternly replied:
“I wonder what Job may have had to say to that…”
I left in silence, as on those dim stairs, for this locked-up for life inmate, my god-defending theology would have proved as irrelevant and humiliating, as all other religions. Because only after I have lost – as an already devout trainee minister – my own first two precious children, I understood why I should never again mention that god gave back Job more riches and more children than before.
To this day, not even the daily sight of my other precious children can ease the tormenting pain caused by the loss of my first two…
Because only a mercantile bastard would expect to be worshipped for giving “other” children to someone whose children he assassinated in the first place.

-to be continued…-

De Profundis…

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Ecclesiastes of A Job…

Of despair my heart is bleeding,
Something wrong must have happened today,
Pieces of breath, frozen singing
Memories searching their way.

No more, no shore departing,
No dreams to brag about,
Cowards and dogs shouting,
Swans never flying south.

Tender whatever with roses,
Bitter garment of thorns,
Open which nobody closes,
One good for a thousand of wrongs.
…………………………..
I told you that morning, mother,
I do not want to be born,
To be the next; another,
Boring duty to mourn.

Social Poem 2

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Why is it that every bit of a stone raised to hit with,
arrives precisely at nearly every moment
of each day,
straight away,
against my very, every tooth
left unsmashed by previous,
attempts
to secure ’em a well deserved p(a)lace
in the newly appointed
Paradise for Handheld Teeth Smashing Stones.

In that very Paradise, a self appointed,
self revolving social arm,
penetrates back and forth,
back and forth and again, through thin layers of width,
(like grandma’s wooden spoon getting in and out
water’s boiling skin,
gently moving-removing eggs)
granting stones and hands
never-ending crimson ribbon padded mass graves:
Lourdeses for each and every barren
gum hole…
There chlorine is being added by the same
self revolving social spinster
Just to ensure gum disease are kept
at (pirate) bay…

Then at midnight,
all this bleached parade joins
the endless ranks of
desperate housewives scourging
through leftover papers
for whatever coupons
of love…

“Are you dead yet? Asked a frightened angel
sent to make sure no devil would dare unplug
my:
Heart (Jarvik)
Lung (the other’s out…)
Brain(s)
Urinal drains (kidneys sold to buy the Jarvik…)
also to make sure my colostomy bag
will never be emptied
of life’s all dues…
Because that would be a sacrilege
against the sanctity of (f)lies…
————————————-
And the devil presented (him/her)self before God and said:
“Do you see your job?”

And God said:
“No.”