If I were to discover in a flash of clarity that I was omnipotent, I would use the power to do anything to make myself omniscient, and with this power to know all, I would examine the multitudinous interactions of every person to ever draw breath to determine if there exists any plane of existence that does not end in humanity's self-destruction. If it does, I will dispense with free will and ensure that the world I have envisioned comes to pass. If it turns out, however, that humanity is inherently flawed, that self-destruction is always inevitable, I will accept as failed the great experiment that is humanity and allow the present reality to run its course till its natural conclusion: annihilation.

Perhaps I'll get a dog.

Imagine being woken up by the storm

And realise the storm is you

Imagine making life-changing mistakes

That no one else can undo

One day a human, taken by the curse

One day a god, for better or for worse

But by the second day a monster

Destroying the universe

In this case, I just can’t embrace

Whatever I have become

Crushing the world between my palms

And holding it under my thumb

I tried to change it for the better

And fulfil everyone’s dreams

But instead of a sugar-sweet laugher

I got bitter-sour screams

There are too many twisted souls

Piling upon my reign

And too few pure-hearted minds

Betrayed again and again

At his rate, it’s way too slow

In this state, I’m way too small

Although I’m bigger than them all

No god can separate the good from the bad

If bad is everything we ever had

And if it’s impossible to update

What this world needs is a clean slate

So I’ll be the one to choke the sky

And suck the life out of earth

I’ll kiss all the nations goodbye

And watch the planets’ rebirth

In the eye of the hurricane, they will wait

For their pity souls to fly

For ‘forgive and forget’ is way too late

The last god – that am I!

She used to be human, this beast who now writes,

Equipped with bled blood and a tooth which still bites

At the flesh of the knowledge,

When consciousness hung

in the balance,

Foreboding the nonsense to come...

Then she ripped at Earth's heart mass; decrying; accusing,

when horror was endless, when shame was excusing,

and poured her soul into the hole of life's musing

accosting existence with words so confusing,

She peeled off it's skin;

Sat there naked and sinful,

The life was abandoned; it's coins clattered tin-full...

But when, in the end, she thought not of persisting

She laughed at herself for e'er having resisting

A life full of fun; Full o' shits, kicks and giggles;

Of mirth to unearth in a belly which jiggles

In pain with the love and in love with the pain...

So she smiled and named herself human again.

Don't we all

wake up each day

with unlimited authority and power?

Power and authority

requires so little these days

no skills necessary

just followers

who

for whatever reason

willing to hand themselves over

to the mimicry and blind obedience

that creates omnipotence

for idiots, ignoble and saviors alike.

There need be no bestowing

just strip away civility

the criminally insane

have always known

claim and act upon the omnipotence

within their humanity.

“I was once a man . . . not so different from you.”

The words slipped off my tongue lacking the condescension I had intended.

“I know, my lord.” Came his reply.

He knew? What did this poor slob know? He knew nothing.

I . . . I know everything. Rather, I can make them think I know everything. Close enough.

“I had gone to bed slightly parched,” I began to recite the tale I had told hundreds of times, “It was a hot summer day . . .”

“Yes, my lord,” the beggar took advantage of my pause. “I know the story. I have heard tell of how you woke to find water dripping from the ceiling, how it quenched your thirst and how mysteriously it vanished.”

“I had summoned it. Even unintentionally. That is how great my powers are.”

This story was a vague facsimile of the truth. There was water but it quenched anger more than thirst. That sordid fool never bothered me again.

“Perhaps you can explain to me one thing,” I pause to build the tension, enjoying the feel of his rising hope, reveling in anticipation of knocking it back down. The power to crush a spirit is truly the greatest power of all. “Why ever would I do something for a maggot such as you?”

He sputters searching for an answer. “But . . . you said . . . once you were not so different. I thought you might understand my situation.”

“Once perhaps, but I am no longer the man I once was. I am as unlike you as day is unlike night, matter unlike emptiness, life, death. You are nothing. While I, I am everything.” A lightning bolt followed by a rippling crack of thunder punctuates my sentence.

I hate this kind of nonsense. I was no common man. I am not unable to sympathize with this man’s troubles but even at my weakest I was so much more than he could ever be. A nothing like him could never wrest such power from the hands of fate. I deserve this power. I suffered for it. It is my right. I am wisest. While I am generous with my gifts, I am careful to keep everything in check. I can only do so much or who know what evil could be unleashed. I must pick and choose, decided and conquer for the good of all mankind. Only I know what is best. No regular mortal could face the challenges I must. Greedy and lazy the lot of them.

Well, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, as they say.

“At any rate, I will help you.” I declare. “You have asked me no great thing.”

I snap my fingers, unnecessarily, of course, just for show. A basket appears at the beggar’s feet. He bows low, thanks me profusely and leaves.

I should not be so generous. It only encourages them. These small, pitiful, powerless creatures ought to make do on their own, as I always had. No one should have things handed to them.

It is so satisfying to flaunt my dominion and I am so kind, so generous. Like a loving father, I daresay.

They owe me so much more than their feeble minds can comprehend. They ought to pay me back, yet there isn’t much they could offer. I don’t require anything from anyone.

They could work for me, though I don’t need them to.

I can make them suffer to prove their value, hurt them to prove their strength, all the while demanding they shower me with praise and honor just to let them live. I could force them to worship me, to suffer, bleed and even die for me.

I could promise rewards for them in the next life, the life after life. They don’t know any better. They would believe every word.

And you know what?

I think I shall.

"Men rape and brutalize each other. Equal treatment is not much of an advance."

I have dipped my toes in the cool water that is Prose. But with this comment on my post about rape, someone peed in the pool.

I imagine this person signing into their account, writing that comment, and going back out into the world feeling safe in the dark.

In the dark, I wake up. This was a fever dream. But in the light of my bedside table lamp, I look down and see my hands. They are made of stars.

I can cast over everyone what I truly believe.

I can finally say my piece.

At the end of time, all stars will die out, one by one. Ultimately, one last star will remain. It will shine the only light that is left, into the universe.

Perhaps this is my chance.

In the darkness, I sit up and grab pencil and paper. I start to write.

There are typos, edits that need to be made. I wipe away the pencil with the tears that accompanied my waking up.

I want their to be equality.

I have done it. With my pencil, I have written what the person had said in my comments, except I fixed it. I made it so we have equal treatment.

But let's go back to what they actually said.

"Equal treatment is not much of an advance."

What did this person want? Did they want anything at all to change?

I try to think. The pencil dangles in my hands. Finally, I write something down, no edits needed.

"I want there to be no more ignorance."

Maybe we can all be stars, illuminating, and not peeing, in a pool of someone else's tears.

Day after day I watched them fly above me darting in and out of my line of sight beyond the longleaf pines until they were gone.

"Come back." I would whisper. "And take me with you." I used to believe my yearning to be a bird had something to do with jealousy before I recognized the absurdity in comparing my desire for freedom and their quest for survival.

If I am a birder, and I wish to claim that I am, I am an inept one, because I am not sure I could point out the specific differences between a raven and a crow beyond the color black. With hawks and eagles, although I've done my research, if one flies directly over my head, I choke. Unable to differentiate before I lose sight, I consider myself an embarrassment to my country of origin. If I only paid more attention to details I would easily identify the most pictured bird in the US of A as the bald eagle, for shards sake. On coins, on paper money, on postage stamps, in the logos of Federal Agencies, and as a shining example prominently pictured on the one and only great seal since 1782. And then there is me, in 2022, in broad daylight, looking up like it's dark, as ignorant as a babe in the woods, longing to be a species I can't even identify. But ask me to do something stupid like a blind taste test between Miracle Whip and Hellman's Mayonnaise and I'll nail it. Go figure.

But I can definitively state the difference between a male and female cardinal. That tidbit of information grabbed me and stuck. If cardinals were humans, it would be the males wearing the bold slinky red dress and the females wearing the dull drab brown t-shirt. I don't know why, but that struck me as odd. I suppose because I am narrowly perceiving sexuality from a human heterosexual standpoint. Find me a bird that would fault me.

So I woke up this morning, low and behold, to find a message. It was not written down. It was not spoken, yet it was clearly understood telepathically from an unknown entity. I am to be gifted a supreme power to become whatever it is I desire to be. It is not like me to be prone to balderdash. But this message was different from anything else I have ever experienced. No joke. It was all consuming in a junkie meets heroine kind of way. Otherwise, the message was vague, about as specific as the contents of my kitchen junk drawer. Typically, when my eyelids open, like most of the world, I am about two drinks into a jag, semi-conscious, half in half out, so I was already in a compromised state, unwilling to deliberate the implications, rendering me ripe for the picking. It was then that I was distracted and pleasantly aroused by the dawn chorus of the blackbirds, and they led me to impulsively decide my fate; "I am going to be a bird. Not just any bird. A fricking big, bad ass, great seal, bald headed, US of A eagle. And I will fly wherever the hell I want without a care. No bills, no taxes, no stinking rules. Just me and the great big endless sky from sunup to sun down, winging it, where there is no such a thing as a dirty job, demanding girlfriends, party affiliations, Kim Kardashian, Sean Hannity or commercials squawking in the background; AFLAC."

And so it was, just like I had made a wish to a genie in a bottle, and away I went. Conveniently, my starting point was a nest, in a tree, right behind my house. Thankfully an empty nest, otherwise my freedom ride would have come with inconvenient complications. It hadn't occurred to me that an eagle could also be a father, or a mother like a human. It has always been my desire to fly solo. The only aisle I want to walk belongs in a retail store. Marriage, children, the whole picket fence minivan thing; not for me.

It might have been a good idea for me to have gotten up and contemplated my thoughts about such a major life decision over a cup of coffee. At the very least, I should have turned on the weather channel. Hindsight is, as they say 20/20, since little did I know, after several hours of sublime soaring, the sky started to darken. It almost didn't matter, because I believe I had already scratched the itch, and released the beast, until the wind began to knock the shit out of me. It was then, just in the nick of time, that my research from when I was a human paid off. Eagles, as it turns out, are the only birds that fly into a storm, using the wind to lift them up to an altitude above the storm. How smart. No wonder they landed their likeness on every dolla-dolla bill.

I had to remind myself a couple of times to rely on what I learned about eagles, instead of the lingering thoughts of my previous human brain where fear makes us do all sorts of weird shit, like avoiding bridges, climbing Mt. Everest, and steering clear of intimate relationships, and it worked. What a rush. It felt like I had been shot out of a circa 1782 cannon grabbing onto the back of a 2022 space shuttle after lift off. It was wild to look at the storm beneath me as I just lifted and lifted up, gliding like a mofo pro. Funny thing was, I never got tired, another advantage of eaglehood. Maybe my rash decision was the best decision I had ever made. Still, I felt curious and that same familiar yearning returned right after I knew the storm had passed. There was this lingering thought, perhaps it was just another nagging human mental atrocity, but it was strong enough to make me want to return to the nest. After all, isn't that what all birds instinctively do anyway?

When I arrived back in my old neighborhood, I realized, it really wasn't the nest I wanted to return to. It was my old bed. I can't say why, because I still wasn't tired. So I thought, "What harm could be done if I plopped down in the nest, and took a peek into my old bedroom through the window? After all, I was now in possession of the proverbial so-called eagle eye. So why not put it to use to quell my curiosity? I wanted to know if there could be someone else sleeping in my bed.

Don't ask me how I knew, but I knew after I took one look. At that point I wasn't sure who had been given the gift of the supreme power. Was it given to me, or was it given to the bald eagle that had lived all those years in the nest right behind my house, because there he was, in my human form, in my old bed. And he wasn't alone. Lying next to him was a beautiful woman. Not just any beautiful woman. It was my ex-girlfriend. The one I dumped when she said she wanted to get married and have kids.

But either way, I will have to assume things worked out exactly as they were meant to be, because suddenly my yearning stopped. It was replaced by extreme hunger. I flew off, away from my old life, hunting for a small mammal without a care except for the conundrum of how the meat was going to taste without any mayo.

It was the fourth day of the fourth month

Four years short from the disco edge

That day is your birthday, my hey day

My soldier's D Day, hanging on a ledge

And in that day I swore I'd make you love me

Shy as I was to invent the process

You saw me and I saw you and on we looked

Then you turned and denied my meek prowess

Now I have turned my fourth year

Before I complete the whole sixty

With the power to light you birthday's candle

And make you love me a plenty

I'll sow the seeds of love in your heart

They'll grow for you to see me as you should

The one heart that wanted you

The one you said, with a look, was no good

But as I plant more of them in you

They seems to sprout into some unnatural form

You see me in your dreams, you know I'm there

Yet you prefer fire and brimstone to paradise as norm

Now I pull at everything I have with might

I won't scare you, force you, and want to hear your words

Yet I more I reach you from within

The more your mute angry words remain shriller to be heard

Now I have the power, and you have none

Now I can make you mine, my presence you can't shun

You're in my heart and that can't be undone

Am I in yours? Powerful, still an answer that doesn't come

On a fourth day of a fourth cruelest month

You were born to remind me that I live

With the Power of Love, and though omnipotent,

My best choice is not with the love I'll take

But the love I hope one day you're willing to give.

“Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.” - Abraham Lincoln

I dedicate this diddy to honest Abe, whose moral compass may have leaned a tad closer to due north than mine. As you read, I urge you to sing aloud in the style of a knee-slappin' Honky Tonk tune. If you'd like to hear me humiliate myself, you can listen to me singing it in my bathroom here: https://voicespice.com/Player.aspx?c=p&h=37B44670&j=373839

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllll!

If I woke up one day omnipotent

I'd smile at the good fortune sent

I'd end hunger n' cure all disease

And o'course say no more poverty

But when all the major work was done

That's when I'd get to having fun

I'd take a swig to steal my nerves

And give you just what you deserveeeeee!

(Double-time, now!)

I'd strap Ted Cruz to my own dining chair

And give him what I thought was fair

Peel back every single finger nail

Say he's spendin' all his life in jail

He'll only get one meal a day

And every bite turns someone gay

Then when he tries to rest his head

We'll read'm anti-racist books insteadddddd

I'd put some dynamite in Mt. Rushmore

Blow it up and watch the pieces soar

The air would fill with stone and dust

And I'd replace it with who we must

Ruth Bader Ginsburg, HRC

Justice Jackson, Gaga and Queen B

Angie Davis and Mother Teeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Plus all three members of TLC (Why not?!)

We'd start the government straight from scratch

Only women in this brand new batch

Of leaders who know how to lead

With consensus and humility

And any shouting of #notallmen

Will land you in the lions' den

Is this a figure a' speech or real?

I'll let my emotions take the wheel

'Cause ain't that what ladies do best

I'll just have to get it off my chesttttttttt (Eyes up here, honey!)

And we'd try more old Republicans

With crimes against Americans

Send McConnell to live with his own kind

On a turtle reserve oh so fine

But first we'd make him watch TV

Only hours upon hours of Broad City

'Til his cold, dead heart was filled with rage

Then we'd slap his chins and throw him in his cageeeeeeeee (Were they only okay for kids?!)

But we can't forget dear Lindsey Graham

And Brett Cavanaugh, our boofin' man

Since they're cool with rape and sex assault

And nothing's ever been their fault

We'd let the women decide their fates

To chop or chemically castrate

And force Lindsey to show his special mooooooooooles

Just kiddin' - wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole

But don't you for one minute think

That we'd forget women who stink

'Cus there's right wing ladies 'round

Marjorie Taylor Green and Blackburn take the crown

Since they wear their internalized misgoyny

Like a badge of honor on their sleeves

We'll employ them at Planned Parenthood

Until they've changed their tunes for goooooooooood

I know this song did not have a bridge

But I'm God now, so it's my prerogative

And before I enact my incel ban

I'll give the remaining highlights of my master plaaaaannnnn

I'd end police brutality

Find all stray pets a family

Make the temp forever seventy

And make college tuition free

End women's clothes size discrepancieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees

And keep Andrew Garfield just for me

(Yeehaw! Spiderman's mine!)

I wake up to the sound of trees falling. I hear I-love-yous and I know your blood. Crimson and siphoned through tissue, mostly unseen. I feel the strings of death that tie me to bed. No wonder you can't kill a god. Any kind of end is too quick, too kind, for something of such magnitude, such power. Everything inside me has been torn out, tossed to the corner of my room. There lies nothing of consequence: dust, toys, I hear the screams of a young boy as he runs from his father, Jenna's sweater, CDs from last week, candy wrappers, cars turn corners, racing, running, heavy breathing, hearts pounding, beating, stopping. I can make it stop

I can't sit up but I can make it stop. End. I sense it. But, they laugh and they yearn and they hurt. They live. Somehow. Who am I to strip them of their horrors? Who am I to leave them awake, with all the terror they create? The strings pull tighter and tighter and my veins, my skin, my self splits. Among the floral sheets lies a mosaic of reluctant divinity and blood.

I close my eyes.