Poetry By Carl Muller from And Now, We Want to be Gods!
TWO
I listen to the priest. He’s got it all pat–we are all made
of clay, oh yes – clay.
God moulded us.
I wilt. This God and his box of plasticine…
and I think: In that case, we inherited
no intermediate characteristics.What I want to know is why, with that clay,
couldn’t God have made us
into a more splendid form?
The priest kicks me out.
He yells about the power and the glory…
but of course, there must be this power —
Things grow; seeds become trees,
and in this simian line of descent,
we have our own power… or have we?
THREE
I’ve got to think this one out:
Imagine our hairy ancestors.
They become monkey kings…
well, obviously, they gave the world to us.
but what about ants or bees?
Why couldn’t we have come from them?
They have a superb capacity for co-operative labour.
They have no unemployment, no poverty,
no riots, no strikes, not unstable governments.
Why did we have to come from the monkeys?
From: A Bedlam of Persuasions by Carl Muller, A Vijitha Yapa Publication, 2005.
Meditating into Happiness 