Kasmir on Christianity

(OK, going through these old writings is dangerous--I come across stuff that shocks me. I would never write this long, 8 beats to a line poem today. It's a bit snarky and a tad disrespectful of differences in religions that I've left far behind. But it is funny, so I'm going to let you read it. Since it was written on yellow legal pad paper, I'd date it from sometime in college between 1965 and 1969.)

Kasmir On Christianity

“Now let me get this straight,” he said,

while sitting upright on his bed,

“Though what you tell me may be true,

I have this question to ask you.”

Wise Kasmir smiled because I winced,

And to his argument commenced:

“This Jesus man you preach to me,

a god or man—which will he be?

For now you say he's son of Jove,

who once the devil's foot did clove;

who did the earth create quite eased,

inventing creatures as he pleased.

To twice destroy them with his ire

(with water once, someday with fire)

and saved a remnant of the few,

to give to them the name of Jew.

And this great god did trod the earth,

surcease of sorrow not of mirth

(though Zeus, I hear, did oft dare fate

with fairest nymphs to copulate!

But I forget, he not your One,

your god is whole devoid of fun.)”

Kasmir smiled his mystic smile,

“I've thought on this for quite a while.

At any rate, Christ walked around

and legend holds passed farm and town.

And yet no footprints can I find

prove him to be of gait divine.

But at that point you change your thought

and say he's human with no fault.

Such contradiction once I saw

and that was in your Golden Law.

Born in a stable, old and rude,

carpenter's son—and doubtless crude--

and still you praise his works of love

and hold him in your mind above

the sons of tailors and of priests

(sons of divines were not the least

in number of the sons of man--

deny that Christian if you can....”

Kasmir was warming to his task,

and he had other things to ask.

“And don't you claim your Jesus boy

thought of his god and not his toy?

And shunned all play in search of truth?

Is this your common human youth?

Make up your mind, don't trouble me,

of which one type can Jesus be?

Is he a mortal? Call him such.

Could I be roasted by his touch?

Then he's a god and name him so.

And don't hang down your head so low--

look in my eye, I want the facts.”

Reclining on his bed of tacks,

he boldly told me with a frown--

“You're whole religion's upside down!

Now wait until I charm this snake,

I have another point to make....”

Alas, his point he'll 'ner impart.

One of his nails slipped through his heart.

The cobra bit him on his toe

and I decided I should go.

Instead of watching Kasmir bleed,

I left him to his perfect creed.