Free On the Many Deaths of Amanda Palmer by Rohan Kriwaczek
Authors: Rohan Kriwaczek
was His, all that below our feet, was mine
And You guys dancing on the boundary with Your new-fangled Free
Will.
âWell, I wasnât interested in You at all to start with
Frankly, I just didnât give a damn
I was busy in the core, smelting down my metal ores
To build foundations for the realm I call a home
âAnd He seemed to be quite happy with His playthings
As You pranced about picking berries and hunting boar
But then I heard You come a-scratching on the roof of my foundationsâ
You were pilfering my precious metal ores
âSo that was the first curse that I sent You
For You never realised that these things were mine
And no matter what You made, be it elegant or fierce
It would follow my intentions in good time
âEvery broach became a beacon for my Vices
Each arrowhead a channel for my will
Attracting Pride and Envy, Greed and Lust and Wrath
Oh, so effortlessly was Your future sealed
âAnd up there on His throne He saw it coming
And I think He quite enjoyed the little game
For I heard Him laughing smugly as He tinkered with His toys
Inventing something new to help You on Your way
âAnd so He gave You Beauty, and the artfulness to catch it
And to free it from a block of wood, or stone
And, to be fair, You caught on quickly, with Your pigments and designs
And I could feel You slipping further from my realm
âSo I pondered and considered and constructed
Until slowly I devised the perfect trap:
An elaborate concoction called Religion, in a hundred
Different drafts, scattered right across the map
âAnd every draft had its own unlikely stories
And every story had its heroes and its damned
And in Your tongue, I called Him God, And I called myself The Devil
But that was flattery on both counts, You understand.
âHe gave You Faith, but I gave You Delusion
He gave You Love, but it was I who gave You Lust
He gave You untold riches in the next life, or so he said
But I gave You gold, and in gold You can immediately trust
âHe gave You Contentment, but I gave You Glory
He gave You Restraint, but I gave You Desire
He gave You the quiet satisfaction of being one with Yourself
But I gave You Adventure, Invention, Ambition and Fear
âHe gave You Music to seduce You from my passions
I gave You Writing to contain Your wildest fancies â
He turned my writing into poetry, I turned his Music into Dance
And so We pulled and pushed across the weary centuries
âSo He and I, like spiteful playmates, spiked the potion
With ever more exotic complications
Until the mixture grew too rich to drink, too thick to pour
And bubbled mischievously with explosive implications
âThen We retreated, and We watched, and We waited
We had agreed there would be no more interference
For the scene had been well set, and the game was now afoot
And We gambled on the outcome with great impatience
âAnd how We smiled to see You tending to Your talents
Distilling many powerful notions from the mire
For the rest was up to You, and Your brilliance shining through
Would leave us gasping both in Awe and in Despair
âFor it never was a game of Good and Evil
You could never draw its lines in Black and White
There were never simple choices; but a thousand different voices
Each one calling âFollow meâ into the night
âAnd many of You led, and still more of You followed
And the thing that You call Culture soon evolved
But with Culture came Division, with Division came Derision
And so the story of Your Becoming slowly unfolds:
âEvery temple was built upon the blood of cousins
Each palace was stained with greedâs betrayal
And Your citiesâ bold foundations crushed the graves of many nations
As You congratulated Yourselves with vainglorious tales
âFor War it was that begat Civilisation,
And Civilisation it was that begat War
And the two danced hand in hand across the Millennia,
Spreading Beauty and Disaster
And You guys dancing on the boundary with Your new-fangled Free
Will.
âWell, I wasnât interested in You at all to start with
Frankly, I just didnât give a damn
I was busy in the core, smelting down my metal ores
To build foundations for the realm I call a home
âAnd He seemed to be quite happy with His playthings
As You pranced about picking berries and hunting boar
But then I heard You come a-scratching on the roof of my foundationsâ
You were pilfering my precious metal ores
âSo that was the first curse that I sent You
For You never realised that these things were mine
And no matter what You made, be it elegant or fierce
It would follow my intentions in good time
âEvery broach became a beacon for my Vices
Each arrowhead a channel for my will
Attracting Pride and Envy, Greed and Lust and Wrath
Oh, so effortlessly was Your future sealed
âAnd up there on His throne He saw it coming
And I think He quite enjoyed the little game
For I heard Him laughing smugly as He tinkered with His toys
Inventing something new to help You on Your way
âAnd so He gave You Beauty, and the artfulness to catch it
And to free it from a block of wood, or stone
And, to be fair, You caught on quickly, with Your pigments and designs
And I could feel You slipping further from my realm
âSo I pondered and considered and constructed
Until slowly I devised the perfect trap:
An elaborate concoction called Religion, in a hundred
Different drafts, scattered right across the map
âAnd every draft had its own unlikely stories
And every story had its heroes and its damned
And in Your tongue, I called Him God, And I called myself The Devil
But that was flattery on both counts, You understand.
âHe gave You Faith, but I gave You Delusion
He gave You Love, but it was I who gave You Lust
He gave You untold riches in the next life, or so he said
But I gave You gold, and in gold You can immediately trust
âHe gave You Contentment, but I gave You Glory
He gave You Restraint, but I gave You Desire
He gave You the quiet satisfaction of being one with Yourself
But I gave You Adventure, Invention, Ambition and Fear
âHe gave You Music to seduce You from my passions
I gave You Writing to contain Your wildest fancies â
He turned my writing into poetry, I turned his Music into Dance
And so We pulled and pushed across the weary centuries
âSo He and I, like spiteful playmates, spiked the potion
With ever more exotic complications
Until the mixture grew too rich to drink, too thick to pour
And bubbled mischievously with explosive implications
âThen We retreated, and We watched, and We waited
We had agreed there would be no more interference
For the scene had been well set, and the game was now afoot
And We gambled on the outcome with great impatience
âAnd how We smiled to see You tending to Your talents
Distilling many powerful notions from the mire
For the rest was up to You, and Your brilliance shining through
Would leave us gasping both in Awe and in Despair
âFor it never was a game of Good and Evil
You could never draw its lines in Black and White
There were never simple choices; but a thousand different voices
Each one calling âFollow meâ into the night
âAnd many of You led, and still more of You followed
And the thing that You call Culture soon evolved
But with Culture came Division, with Division came Derision
And so the story of Your Becoming slowly unfolds:
âEvery temple was built upon the blood of cousins
Each palace was stained with greedâs betrayal
And Your citiesâ bold foundations crushed the graves of many nations
As You congratulated Yourselves with vainglorious tales
âFor War it was that begat Civilisation,
And Civilisation it was that begat War
And the two danced hand in hand across the Millennia,
Spreading Beauty and Disaster
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