A poem about the struggle between the flesh and the spirit.

Incarcerated and shackled by pride

multiplied exponentially by the jawbone of an ass

I'd become convinced that I possessed supernatural powers.

After all, I was a chosen Nazarite

sanctified from the time of my birth,

an answer to prayer

granted before the foundation of the world.

Furthermore, I'd been called by God to be a judge

at a dark time in history when every man

was doing that which was right in his own eyes, but now;

But now I am bound banefully blinded

and grinding in a dungeon of the dead,

the ridicule of nations, a giant at the mercy of midgets.

I, the man of steel,

was being held above a flame of hell.

I was being slowly turned on a spit

like a forbidden, unclean, cloven hoofed swine

until my sin began to melt and drip

like plastic into a fire of burning lust.

I couldn't see.

The heavenly gateway to the soul, my eyes

had been reamed out by a white hot poker.

I had been shorn like a lost sheep caught in a thicket,

some man-made trap hatched by a woman

designed to appeal to my hubristic nature.

In what seemed like another life

I had let my hair, the secret of my strength, grow

down to my six-pack waist. Every strand of my hair

had been numbered by God.

I was a biblical rock star,

Mr. America, Mr. Universe, Mr. Olympia,

a gold medal weightlifter, a man's man,

the envy of children, the desire of women,

and above all, a deliverer, a righteous judge.

I represented the hope of my oppressed, lost, blind people,

whose eyes had been focused on themselves.

But, that was before I took a taste of honey

designed to putrefy my tortured soul,

an unholy sweetness, a riddle

whose answer went up in smoke

along with the ashes of the one I loved.

And now I lay me down

at the foot of a prophetic cross

begging for mercy

and one last opportunity for revenge and vindication,

a chance to break the chains of sin

that bound me to myself, my own worst enemy.


Submitted: August 14, 2009

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