Tag Archives: faith

THE MAGI-CIANS 2: SHOWDOWN

Trick or treat

Dance to the beat

Coz we got you neat

Oh you sly Herod got the heat

And now totally unsettled on your seat

(source: unknown)

_____________________________________________

Sat on your throne feeling neat

Any wagging tongues your guards beat

You called the shots and dictated the beat

You get angry and the innocent feel the heat

You give the orders and it all becomes a bloody treat

 

Well now feel my beat

I’m gonna give it to you neat

I turn on my words like the heat

From my kitchen comes a nuclear treat

Coz I’m a righteous gangster from heaven’s seat

 

All we got in life are a treat

Handed to us all in our seat

We can’t control life’s every beat

Not to speak of our every heart’s beat

Who survives when life brings on the white heat

 

Whether we work under the heat

Or play games each lounging on his seat

Fate is a cunning illness none can fully treat

Though we alter some events at life’s complex treat

There’s much in this party that doesn’t dance to all our beat

 

So whilst on your sadistic seat

Feeling like a god so fly and neat

The magicians heard a different beat

And did not stagger at the sight of your heat

But rocked side to side at the Chef-God’s treat

 

And now Herod feel the heat under your seat

As you just got beat at your own grand treat

Coz the Chef-God’s heat cooked you neat

Giving you a treat to his version of heat

Time to feel my beat crash your seat

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Matthew 2:1-13 contains a summary of how Herod’s attempt at killing God’s son was totally foiled.

 

Narrator: “Hollup magi, I’m coming. Herod’s goose is cooked! Let’s go see those gods of the 21st century feeling like they own the universe and all of existence. We need to remind them they didn’t conceive, incubate and give birth to themselves. Now that they all grown up and making a few bucks and academic degrees, they be barking up and down the streets with doggy philosophies and belching with goaty pride!”

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Tribe-Wars: Spirits vs Mortals -Letters From The River Border

Dear Son, Before I lose myself in the depth of all that’s unfolding here, let me ask how the tribe is doing. I hope everyone at home is doing fine.
Here goes: like you know, the journey began at the River of Deathly Surrender. We had crossed the Lake of Beginnings with our canoes. Then we approached the River of Deathly Surrender. It would be a misnomer calling it a river. It bore promises of the horrors of a violent ocean. Using canoes across this river would easily make us sitting ducks. Even though we approached the river en masse, we each had to board the ship individually. The ship was manned by spirits which though were of a different sort from the violent slave masters. We were all treated alike. No respect was paid to anybody. The tribe chief was asked to drop his royal war headgear. I felt sorry for the poor man. He was never even supposed to use anything else besides the Helmet of Salvation. The sorting out issues were the highlight, and some of the violent spirits came to grace the event. Unable to approach the ship, they contentedly hovered nearby seeming to enjoy watching us even dare to successfully board the ship. We may have paid them more heed if we didn’t have something even more difficult to deal with. Son, it was tough letting go of some of those loads:
Food provisions of self-dependence –plans we had made for ourselves banking on our supplies, on ourselves, to meet our needs. We would be banking only on the food aboard the ship. We would be learning to rely on the crew to provide our meals for us as at when they think we need it. You can understand how tough it was, knowing we would be completely dependent on strange beings to take care of our needs. We only knew they were not harmful as it were, but some of us who weren’t sure this was enough to trust them politely declined and stayed back;
Good look (or rather, good luck) charms and charismatic amulets. Impressive personalities and sweet talks did not tilt these spirit-guards one bit. I am not sure they will daze the warring spirits we are going to meet either. Don’t get me wrong, Son. You can keep your stunts seeing you might need them to woo your future wife;
(Using his discretion, the Enchanted Writer who was given access to these letters decided to pause his narrative here, to keep the readers from tiring out.

Thank you.)

The Dance Of The Dead

It’s high noon again and the spirits are warming up, contrary to the more popular myth that they favour the dark of the night. Anyway, it’s always bright and “noony” here in spirit-land, without any sun. Of course not, since they don’t see as we mortals see. Of all possible meeting places (including the Alley of Corruption, the Fortress of Power, the Clubhouse of Sensuality and the Castle of Pride and the Shrine of Religion), they prefer The Hall of Open Hearts down in Hade’s Square of the Dead –even to The Majestic Place by Right Hand on High drive. (Any visitor to the spirit-world may get directions from The Book). Blood-printed invites had been sent to all correspondents –dignitaries from Hell, the spirit-princes over different world regions, and the glorious ones from Heaven Enchanted. And, uh, the demons couldn’t present their invitation cards seeing as they couldn’t resist licking up the blood. Nonetheless, they were allowed in being easy to recognize.
I was one of the few mortals given the privilege of viewing this occasion. I can’t say why I was chosen, but I couldn’t resist an opportunity as totally awesomely thrilling –if I may exclaim –as this.
To pass through the gates, one had to stoop to the lowest and drop whatever baggage one came in with; then the steps rose steeply beyond the humbling entrance, gallant epic steps flanked on either side by the holy angels and the Holy Witnesses –the spirits of the redeemed who had died on earth. The entrant would then move out into an open space, taking in the wonders of the venue. I daresay the astronomical size of the hall beat any I ever thought possible in existence.
On the far side of the auditorium were the seats for the hellish dignitaries. Lucifer himself proudly took the spotlight of the region, flanked by the demonic principalities and spirit-princes of world regions. They were arrayed in dark-misty suits and bloody-red royal robes. There was another entrance on their side. Thankfully I wasn’t led through that!
On an elevated platform overlooking the stage was the Creator-God. The being had no particular form. At least it was hard putting any form because I couldn’t see details beyond the surrounding awe. If it was possible to combine the purity and loveliness of the best fountain or a baby dove, with the liberating aura of the coolest cruising wind or the stallion breath, with the mysterious halo of the mistiest mist or the owl-gaze, with the awe of the greatest, steepest mountain or a living unicorn, with the fierceness of the raging volcano or the injured rattlesnake, with the warmth of a mid-winter summer-sun or the insides of a kangaroo’s pouch, with the most indescribably awesome sight you have ever witnessed, then that will be a start for YOU. As for me, it is already the most awesome (to grossly downplay it) sight I have ever witnessed –the presence of the wholeness of the Creator-God in the Open Heart.
And, oh, the stage was –a word I don’t use indiscriminately even for ladies –BEAU…TIFUL! There were no steps abutting on its boundaries. It seemed to be floating in the air, in the centre of the hall, surrounded by the Abyss of Sin. It seemed it could only be accessed by taking huge leaps of either foolishness or faith. I wouldn’t however want to wager on the former. The stage was whitewashed by Floodlights of the Word; and was so clean I could lick it.
Despite the huge audience this event pulled, there was such order and quietness in the hall. It became frighteningly or chokingly more tense as the procession to the stage began for the main event -THE DANCE OF THE DEAD.