On the Seventh Day and Every Day After…

nietzsche poem

The whole universe finished

Galaxies, stars, comets, and black holes

Along with the earth, animals, fish, birds, insects

One man and a woman from his rib

Not bad for a week if I do say so myself


The angels were quite impressed

But, everything I do impresses them

It gets kind of old if I’m being honest


Six days well spent

But now the anticlimax of day seven

And every day after

It’s only a matter of time until the two fall

And I have to fix it all

Well, in a way

They will think me merciful for cleaning up their mess

Thorns, thistles, sickness, and pain

Clothing them with skins once the curse comes

Even being willing to send my son in the long run

To save them from what I’ll do to them

If they don’t ask me to save them


It’s all hollow to me

The praise and the worship they shower on me

“God… thank you for your mercy! Thank you for forgiving us and fixing our broken state!

Thank you for cleansing our sin and delivering us from evil! We praise you, oh God!”

It isn’t that I don’t appreciate it

But what they never think about

As they contort their faces and prostrate themselves before me

Is that before they fucked it all up

I fucked it up first


I made the damn place to begin with

The universe, the world, and everything in it

Yeah, the players of the game went bad

But I made the game

And I set the rules

They were destined to fail

If anyone needs forgiveness

It’s me


The hell of it is

I can’t do a damn thing wrong

I’m God

Whatever I do is holy

Even if it isn’t


Here on the seventh day

The bow has been drawn back

And I shot the arrow

I know the whole script

I know how it all plays out

I won’t even enjoy watching the flick

Even though I could make myself infinite popcorn

And the angels will clap at every twist and turn of the plot

Looking at me in adoration

For being the greatest writer/director/actor of all time


It’s funny though

I know I’m all powerful

But since I already predestinated the whole thing

I wonder if I could change it now, even if I wanted to

I am actually afraid to try

So I will just let this wound spring play itself out for a few millennium

Like the greatest music box ever made


On this seventh day and every day after

If anything

I’ll just be bored

It won’t take long and just to pass the time I’ll be making wagers with Lucifer

On what Job will do when I let him be cursed and all he has stolen

With all his children killed

Just to be left with a nagging wife

And a few bitching friends

Still he will bless me

Even in his despair

Then, when all hope is lost, I’ll swoop down

In a whirlwind

And dazzle him with a bunch of questions he can’t answer

Like a magician impressing kids at a birthday party

Who’s just trying to make the rent and can’t wait to go home and get drunk


I’ll know the whole game before I even make the bet

But the devil doesn’t know that

Only I know every twist and turn


(Though it would be ironic if the Devil knew the script too

And just played along so he wouldn’t ruin it for me

Trying to earn his way back into my good graces)


Yet, for the sake of appearances

I’ll act surprised every now and then

People need dramatic tension

That “wondering what will happen”

It is the essence of their experience

But not mine


I’ve been around since Alpha

And will be here until Omega

Without a friend to tell my problems to

A bastard son with no father

No maker

No God to call my own

Just watching a spinning top

That will never come to a stop

God dammit

It’s already getting old

And I still have forever to go

On this seventh day

And every day after…




Copyright 2014 Luke Austin Daugherty

All Rights Reserved