A Metaphor for Technology
The Prince of Tyre believes he is Jesus.
He really believes it.
He knows all of the great gods
And the great nations.
He communes with Nebo.
He talks with Chemosh.
He acquaints himself with Poseidon and Zeus
And Sheshak Muhammad and Dali Buddha.
He knows Athena quite well
And he hunts for Diana.
He is sure, so sure
Of himself to be the great god of Thunder Thor
And his father Odin.
He believes he is a god.
He is convinced of it.
O! How his little adopted brother is Loki
Whom no one knows!
How his grandmother refuses to partake in this nonsense!
How he knows Baal and Baphomet
And Anubis the Sphinx and Ra the lord of the Ammonites!
He knows the Brahman of India all by name.
He knows Ethiopia’s Shaka and Salasi.
He knows Moses and Abraham
Whom he believes are gods too
But they are simply not
And will even tell him so on every occasion they meet.
Prince Richard
Prince of Tyre
With all the wisdom he had
Come from Daniel the Prophet
Was on journey in the Amazon.
On journey he was,
And came across a little tribe of cannibals.
They had their shrunken heads
They had their faces sewn with human skin
They had their testicles pierced with finger bones
Of victims, which they had eaten.
Prince Richard was captured by them
There in the Rain Forests.
There they shook their heads
And Prince Richard was captured.
He said to these fellows,
“I am a god!” and proceeded to spark a light
On his lighter, like he’d seen in so many movies.
They smiled and blew it out.
Oh! Prince of Tyre! Cease from your delusion.
You are not God! Do not call yourself a “God”!
A hundred movies this worked
But the Cannibals will think you have weak magic.
So you bring a pistol
Or whatever it is…
They will not care.
They will eat you.
Cease from calling yourself a “god”.
Let the curse fall on another.
It shall? I don’t know…
Cease from tormenting yourself any longer.
It will? Cease from it, fool!
I will not call you worthless!
My heart is kept in purity for you
That you can love your blessed spouse.
For, understand the metaphor reader.
If you play with magic
You will get destroyed.
There is always someone’s whose is greater than yours.
You have great fear, great hate, great anger.
They, they have no fear, no hate, no anger;
Simply a culture where things like “Love” do not exist.
To the Assyrian, Richard, your magic is a little flame
Your electric car is no wonder.
Your flying rocket ship is a great mystery
But they have seen more greater things in their hallucinations.
They are not pygmies who worship a bottle.
They are stone cold.
They are like a hungry tiger
Eager for blood, to play with the spoil.
I shutter at the thought.
Your aliens won’t help you
For those you hallucinate.
Like the game of Pokemon Go;
Throw away your idols.
Cast them away Prince Richard.
Though you build an army of intelligent machines
Though you discover the world
Cease from it.
For to these nations which you don’t know
You are not a prince. You are not a king.
You are not even supper.
How the other nations look at you
Oh Bar Jesus, and do not understand.
They say, “He is more corrupt than all of us!
“And even our idols.”
Europe, behold your god.
B. K. Neifert 