The writings of Oddpoet » heaven

And God smiled

Eddie Mount — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 13:08:07 +0000

Savage cold froze tears
Shed in the unquenchable fires
The click clack of cattle cars
On smooth highways of steel
Hypnotized
Like the coiled rattle of snakes
Venomous and demanding

The air was stale
Tainted by tired breath
Love had no place here
It fled
Embarrassed by its weakness
Its false heart
Yet singing its own glory
Skipping and holding hands with invisible Justice

Herded into shacks
Made of Earth bone
Cursed wood
And the dried hides of Demons
The tortured screams of sacrificial lambs
Bleating
mesmerizing
drowning out all sounds
Of normalcy
Appendages of the damned
Clawed Blood runes onto wooden floors
Incantations invoking divinity

“Am I not a Son of David?“
“Wouldst thou forsake me Lord?“

The sky rumbled and parted in majestic display
And
God
Smiled

Huddled skeletal monsters
Where flesh refused to take root
Bones growing
Skin withering
Daughters raped
The teeth of Sons removed for metal
To fashion chariots for ancient Death Kings
Lifetimes removed from false hope
A miasma of evil Blotted Sun
it will never be innocent again
Nor will it ever shine as bright

Liberators bearing sticks of death
Saw the walking corpses
In this camp of death
They vomited up fake hellos
And shallow meanderings
Of a distant sanity
Forever lost
To evil’s banal face

The world stopped
And was redefined

The skeletal horde
Walked as collective accusations

As one man
they looked
To the sky
And demanded
“How can this be?”

The sky parted
Seraphim’s and Elohim’s
Bore the Arc of the Covenant
Blazing in Nova light
Powerful voices Boomed
Across the darkened sky
“Holy Holy Holy“
“Behold the face of omnipotence”

God Looked down
And
God
…
…
…
Smiled

So I’m dead…Right?

Eddie Mount — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 23:39:02 +0000

So I’m dead.

How do I know?

When you die there is this pre-recorded message that plays in you head.

“You might be confused at the moment but let us assure you that you are indeed dead and we will be servicing you shortly. Please wait in line and we promise an eternity of bliss awaits you. Thank you for your patience, the Management”

Now I am really pissed, I’m dead and I have to deal with voice mail? Bad enough I had to deal with it when I was alive. At least they didn’t have an Indian accent…

So I’m waiting in line and there are some dickweeds in front of me who are pissing me off. I’m holding back because I am perpetually pissed and I don’t want to cause a scene. The last thing I need is to get a Rep that I am a dead loose cannon.

Now the dicks in front of me are all excited about seeing Mom and Dad and Grandma and Pa again… I’m like shut the fuck up and who gives a shit.

Now three places back there is a crocodile in line. I’m like what the fuck is a crocodile doing in line with dead humans? Normally I would kick it’s ass but he is a big sucker about 20 feet long and rather large teeth. I want to start a conversation with him, let’s face it how many opportunities do you get to have a conversation with a dead fucking reptile.

So I mosey back and say, “Yo croc what the fuck you doing here?” Believe it or not he has these reading glasses on and he speaks with an impeccable British accent. I’m like “This is too fucking cool.” He tells me is name is Peter and he was reincarnated as a Croc he was king of France at one time. I’m doubtful; of course it seems everyone at one time was King of France. He seems like a cool dude. So I ask the obvious question, “What the fuck you doing in line with dead people shouldn’t you be in the crocodile line?” He apologizes profusely and tells me even though he is a croc he still feels like the King of France. Who am I to argue.

I ask him if he wants to go to the Bar and he does. Now dead people drink like fish and the bar is packed so I ask him if he minds clearing a spot for us and he quickly chomps two fuckers down and WA-La we have seats. We start having a good time, he is a funny fucker and he has me laughing my ass off over stories about banging the Queen of England. Shit, he said he nailed about all the royal pussy in Europe. I’m jealous because all I nailed were some crack whores and an occasional married woman. What are you going to do. Now the loud speaker announces “now serving the dead croc who was once King of France” He apologizes and picks up the tab. I’m like “totally cool man”

He leaves and I’m stuck dead with fucking humans. What are you going to do.

A Conversation with God

Eddie Mount — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 12:12:52 +0000

“To be or not to be” Any of you dudes out here truly know what question the Bard asks?
Well, not many people think about mortality. Don’t blame them.
Back to “The Bard” six words that defines the nature or essence of our existence.

I am the only jerk off, I think, who will call God a Dickweed! Just did it, not smited yet, (guess that comes later)

Anyway, I go to Heaven, and there is God, drooling and snoring on his recliner, remote on the floor, a Hustler mag on his lap.

So I wake the fucker up.

“God, wake the fuck up, your “Creation” is in dire need of your omnipotent services.”

Well, the fuck snores away, well on the 7th day he rested. I did not take that to mean a fucking permanent vacation. I am forced to slap his fucking noggin!

Well, I did and he finally wakes up, thunder, lightning the whole show!

The Archangels have blades drawn on my throat and even those faggot Cherubs are biting my ass. Cause I pissed him off.

“Poet”, he says, as he wipes the droll from his lips, “did I not kill you? Or, at the very least, it has to be on my things to do list.”

Well, that did not give me a warm and fuzzy.

“God, Ultimate Dude of Dudes, A little help is needed on earth.”

“Poet! Asshole, The only reason you exist is because you are a funny fuck!
Don’t push it BABE!” “And, being omnipotent, I bequeathed, free will upon ye. Which, ultimately means…You’re on your own.”

“God! Alpha and Omega, hear me out Dude. I understand the free will concept; but, maybe some guidance, a miracle here and there.”

“It’s a miracle you are still alive!”

“I know God, Emperor of all Creation, I am an asshole, freely given. But how bout some miracles! Maybe cure every child suffering from cancer under… say 12?”

Must have struck a chord, because I could see his Divinity thinking.

I took the time to surreptitiously kick one of those faggot biting Cherubs in the groin. I swear if God was not there I would have kicked all those little fuck’s asses

“Poet, I see your point. But I hesitate to interfere with Humanity. Free Will I have ordained”

“I dig it, Big Chief of the Universe, But Satan’s running rampant on earth, war, disease, famine and Republicans have been running the show!”

“REPUBLICANS!!!!!!” I could see the big guy was upset; however, he continued.

“I see your plight Poet, but free will rules the day. I can not interfere and that is final!”

“God, head honcho, think I can get in to see JC?”

“Poet, you are very close to being dead! get out of here. You are not coming here anyway!” “Nor can you expect an invitation in the future.”

Seeing that I was outnumbered, and the fact that he was right.…and.…. God did not give a fuck. I was ushered, not too kindly, I might add, from Heaven, And Poof I am here.

Gee, aren’t you lucky. Well, thinking of a way I can crucify myself. Got the wood, know I can nail my left hand to the cross, the problem is having, said, left hand nailed, I am unable to nail my right hand to the cross! Which requires me to plea for help!

Ring.….…..

“Hello” “Ehhh.….Don, I need a hand.“
“Poet…watts up, Dude!”
“Don, I need a hand.”

“What?“
“I am trying to crucify myself and I need a hand.”

“Christ, Poet are you into one of your to be or not to be moods?” “Fuck you!” Click.….

dial tone…

Well.…That IS the question

Conversation with God

Eddie Mount — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 23:32:52 +0000

“To be or not to be” Any of you Dudes out here truly know what question the Bard asks?
Well, not many people think about mortality. Don’t blame them.
Back to “The Bard” six words that defines the nature or essence of our existence.