Poem 000: Paradise Conquered (A Discontinued Humorous Epic Poem) Poem by Samer Madbak

INTRODUCTION:

How shall I start, O how can I commence
My ditty, Muse, when I am short of sense
Say, how would I in surety detail
But how would I ensure a tiddy tale
If I do not procure, O deity,
Thine inspiration and thy sympathy
For who amongst them philomels can vow
His ballads unto gods other than thou
Say, what divinity dares lay claim to
Herself a lay that has been claimed to you
For here I stand, another idyllist,
Imploring you to stir my idle gist
Thine is the pow’r exclusive to innerve
And instigate a poet’s dozy verve
Look thus upon me, Goddess, lavish be!
Be thou the guardian of my minstrelsy
And grant that this, my shaky verse, Ah Muse,
Attains its goal: to tutor and amuse...


SCENE I:

The orb of day, with aureate aureole
Light-giver unto angels, saints, and all,
Did shyly, one day, raise a kingly head
Of golden rays, in meekness forwarded,
From up the Mount of Zion, 'cross the plain,
To trace amid of Heav’n a glorious fane
A guilded palace, domicile of God,
There marched the troop of rayons to unload
And by the bedroom, on the Eastern side,
Upon the window ceased the golden stride
But Rays - whose daily duty was to cross
The panes and hover o’er the Lord in gloss
Now tinging him to wake in touches fond
Now twinging him if he fails to respond
Now flinging, in cases extreme, the wand
(For which the Lord's response oft proved unkind) -
That same day were divided in their mind
Whether they should awake his Majesty
On time appointed, or wait up a wee:
“Come let us enter”, thus would say a ray
“Nay, nay”, another cries, “Pray, brothers, stay! ”
And thus, they would have kept their trivial fight
And closing on them would have been the night
Had not Lighthead, the head light, raised his voice
Commanding order, lightening the noise:
“Now listen, each light-footed little light
As I now bring to light what I deem right
For I make no light judgments, my good sense
Will win the light of each one’s countenance.”
So said he in a manner grandiose
Ascertaining an all-around applause.
“Now, brethren”, went on Lighthead with a purr,
“This is my due decision: I prefer
To stall, and let the King of paradise
Rest but a little more, his lightless eyes,
His blest recumbent frame, his holy face
Reflect a trinal tire, I clearly trace
A wearied God, for to sustain a place
Like Heav’n is no light business, not at all,
Perfection needs devotion, and I call
Devotion an impossibility
Behold, O brethren, his Ubiquity
Jaded! I'm sure he wended yestereven
To dine with archangels in Southern Eden
And turned in late. Rays! it meseemeth sage
To wait than wake in him a morning rage,
Two minutes more will please his Sovereignty
And save us from an early penalty.”
Thus spake the chieftain, and his speech did go
Unquestioned, indisputable, but O
How foolish was it and how so absurd
Foul golden locks to have believed his word
For now the Mighty One in bed bestirred
And now two spent but troubled eyes were ope
For God, though sleeping, fathomed by a scope
(An almost faultless perspicacity)
That something was amiss, audacity
Unfurled, He looks around but sees no flash
Inside the room. The rayons at the sash
Now realize their lurid laxity
“Such ghastly irresponsibility
Cannot be tolerated”, thought the Lord
While sitting up in bed, anon he snored
And crossed his brow, that now the rays ceased hoping
To get away with their malicious moping
And reckoned dismal doom and nemesis
“You graceless gleams, corrupters of my Bliss! ”
Hollered his Providence in tow’ring power
“'Tis twenty jiffies past my waking hour!
What ling’ring, what unpunctualitye
Is this? What negligence of duty? Fie!
Fie! Brazen beams, out of my holy face
Get off my sight, thou breeders of disgrace! ”
So said the mighty Lord in froth and foam
So said and said again the lofty dome
And fear gat hold of Rays and in their rout
They blundered, bounced and bustled all about
That soon the sacred chamber blazed in full
And God’s almighty soul was brought to lull
And there He tarried, unperturbed, no word,
'S if nothing happened, nothing e’er occurred
(Whilst rayons, unbelieving, shot away
And lighted out the room to herald Day)
Oh readers, lo! How God, so rank enraged,
Retaining order was again assuaged,
But let nobody err, yeah, let no one
Believe that all is done, for now the Sun
Shall get his reprimand, his Trinity
Doth not forgive and proffer amnesty
Like this! And Father Sun who will be claimed
Responsible for having poorly tamed
His lawless youngsters shall, in due time spent,
Receive the meet and proper punishment
For Heaven’s most egregious felony
Is laying off responsibility...
The might Lord, so lordly in his might
Now rises, shoves the remnants of the night
Anon he yawns, anon he grabs the mace
And strolls the chamber in a sluggish pace
Then heads towards the window, why! a waft
Blows tenderly against the Mighty’s tuft
Across his face, his senses wide revive
His sovereign spirit stirs and springs alive
“Ah, grace”, he whimpers, as he looks at ease
Beyond the casement at his lavish leas
Where scenes of Nature, in her full attire,
Now fill the heart of God with sweet desire:
“What beauty doth my daughter yon display
What excellence, what affluent array
Doth coronate this mellow morn of May.
For there! No frailty do I spot, no sight
Upsets the heart, nay, all is glowing bright
All blossoming with vivid verdancy
A perfect pattern, such a brilliancy
Unfailing, such a stellar comeliness
I cannot help but glorify and bless.
Nay, more! I shall make profit of this day
I will regale myself, away, away
From all this toil, this daily botheration
Th’unending watch, beyond all toleration.
Ay yeah! Today I shall suspend all grind
To Eden I shall fly, I am inclined
To spend the day o’er there, that should be fun!
A lordly lunch, the trees, the breeze, the sun...
But no more musing, now let’s actuate
Ere time advances and 'tis then too late.”
The Lord, thus through with cogitative thought,
Comes back to Earth and cries with piercing throat:
“Ye loyal master of thine angel caste
Oh where art thou, good Gabriel, make haste! ”
The boist’rous call goes through the jewelled walls
Like thunderbolt or heavy waterfalls
Into the room of knightly Gabriel
Who, still asleep, receives the murd’rous yell
And leaps in craze: “Now surely this is Hell! ”
His first thought was, he claps his candid wings
In spastic moves: “'T must be the worst of things
Befallen so that such a ripping roar
Is blasted like I’ve never heard before! ”
The flurried saint, thus stunted by the sound
Makes to his feet, still poising on the ground
He rushes to the Chamber of the Lord
And barges in, all knocking rules ignored,
Yet just before he tries to figure out
The cause of this electrifying shout
The Lord speaks up with plain solemnity
Imparting to the saint some surety:
“Now, hearken unto me, my wingèd saint
And let your muzzle utter no complaint
Today I shall the toil of work evade
And off depart to Eden's esplanade
Yon Nature’s clad in fullest finery
And I intend to share her gaiety
Revoke, thus, all engagements, every meeting
And make it quick, don’t stand there! time is fleeting.”
“But sire”, stutters th’angel in reply
“What now? ” retorts the Lord impatientlye.
“Your daily schedule, thou Perfect One,
May not, I fear, allow your having fun
For thine great council meets today at eight
And you their congregation moderate
Moreover thou must scan your Cherub host
In Northern Paradise, and yet the most
Imperative of matters here in Bliss
Today’s your weekly visit to Abyss
To breathe in it the fire of deathless woes
That thereby devils shall abide in throes
This surely can't be missed, your Sovereignty
Or else the consequence is tragedy.”
“I know my duties well! ”, replies the King
“So you need not remind me, fosterling!
But go inform the saints of holy heart
That with me they to Eden shall depart
Invite, as well, my seraphs, all my cohort
My cherubim, archangels, all my escort
And as for Satan, prince of vice and sorrow,
We shall postpone his matter till the morrow.”
“But Sir”, sobs Gabriel in wonderment
“'Tis final! ” amplifies the Omniscient,
“Now hie thee to my livery, with speed,
And bid the horsemen to equip my steed
Then see to other matters; drink and food,
Ambrosia, mated with a nectar crude...
You know thy chores, my saint, I need not tell
So get thee going, fast, and mind you well
Do not delay! for swear I if thou risk it
This day thou shalt be served as Satan's biscuit! ”
So said the Sovereign in a solid strain
So said he and th’angel cannot complain
For Gabriel, thus ordered to fulfill,
Cannot expostulate a faultless will
But menially he stands with bridled gloom
Bows with assent and promptly leaves the room.


SCENE II:

So, readers, as we leave his Leadership
To tripping fancies re his fancy trip
And as we leave poor Gabriel, glum, pouting
Cursing his morning and that odious outing
We move along to where mean spirits dwell
The house of vice, the dome of Satan: Hell!
Across the fiery sky, the Stygian shore
To Pandemonium, cursed for evermore
There do the torrid flames of Hades seethe
There is the weeping, gnashing of the teeth
There lies a turpid rage, a vicious will,
Hail Lucifer, engenderer of ill.
And next to him is seated prince Belial
A fallen angel of reputed wile
Both were the first to stand against the Lord
Both challenged Him with word or else the sword
As they went claiming that to rule Abyss
Is far more better than to serve in Bliss
So said they and arose a mutiny
Yet Michael won, and God claimed victory.


Beirut
October 30th 1988