purple boots

 
The Bull.
 
His mom named him El. 
She was a powerful queen,
who slept with whoever she pleased.  
She raised strong sons
 
who were cunning and brave
who’d grow to become
their own hilltop kings -
it was their way
 
back in those days. 
And, El, he was a titan.
But more cunning than brave,
he wouldn’t leave with his brothers,
 
to build a tribe of his own.
For the house of his father
sat high on a hill,
where the two rivers began

that fed the two seas. 
So he plotted and planned
and ambitiously waited,
for the right moment
 
to strike his father, Elyon.
At last, El surprised him,
and with a stroke of his scythe,
he castrated his father,

becoming the king-of-kings.
El celebrated his victory
by circumcising himself
and all of his tribe, forever –
 
Then El took a wife
and become a father.
And Asherah, she
bore him a brood.
 
The Calf.
 
His prospering tribe
made him a god
as they would
for his strongest sons –
 
Asherah give him five.
Yahu was his favorite
so El changed his named –
to Yam, his “beloved”.
 
But his adopted son, Ba’al,
both jealous and proud,
hated the favored son,
so he took two clubs
 
and in an epic fight
murdered his brother, Yam.
Yam’s real brother, Mot,
swore his death to avenge,
 
but the cunning Ba’al,
he tricked everyone. 
He fucked a cow and
in his own clothes
 
dressed the boy-calf-baby
which Mot killed in his place.
But Ba’al also fooled
his sister and lover, Anat.
 
And in her pain and rage,
she swore revenge.
In her turn, she slew Mot.
Then Ba’al moved south
 
and fought to become
the king of a mountain
with a tribe of his own.
His tent was large, though
 
not as nice as his father’s
mud brick house in the North.
But, Ba’al was afraid of
his father and brothers.
 
So he seduced his mother.
And Asherah became his mate.
She was strong and loving
and free and beloved. 
 
The tribe claimed
she could walk on water. 
They would later say the same
of her adopted grandson,
 
but that part comes much later. 
They made her a goddess. 
And she played her part
in the myths of Ugarit.
 
It’s what they did
in the time of before reading
with gods and their myths
serving the tribes that made them.
 
Ba’al’s tribe prospered
long after his death,
inventing wonderful things –
letters and trade ships
 
and from shells of the sea
they made the color of kings. 
They still revered Ba’al
with stories and lore
 
to explain both heaven and earth. 
They told tales of his fight
with his brother Yam
to teach nature’s yearly renewal.
 
They studied the stars
and named them for gods,
shaping their myth as they went.
And though often attacked
 
by neighboring tribes,
they survived a very long time.
And like other tribes,
they claimed each win
 
came both from their people
and from the strength
of their ancestral gods. 
If they ever were defeated
 
or suffered great hardship,
it reflected the weakness
of the tribe and their gods. 
And should that happen,
 
it was time to disband
and each go their own way
to join a stronger tribe
with better ancestral gods.
 
Yahu.
 
Then to the south
some neighbors moved in - 
illiterate shepherds
with no gods of their own. 
 
But they too were cunning. 
They took what they needed –
Letters and farming and
commerce and mythology. 
 
They resurrected Yam,
but they used his first name.
Yahu was pulled from the grave.
And they made changes
 
to their stolen goods –
they made rules.
Some were borrowed.
Some were made up, new.
 
They mostly made rules
to preserve who they were,
in the face of their betters
in the hills to their north. 
 
The Calf became villain,
and Ba’al’s consort, Asherah,
was made into Yahu’s wife. 
And so a dead prince
 
was stolen from his grave
and put into bed with his mother.
New tribal myth in hand,
they prepared for war.  
 
They attacked their neighbors
and burned their temples.
This myth was conquest.
This myth was political.
 
The Unnamed.
 
But their neighbors were stronger
and their tribe was defeated,
twice from both south and east. 
But their leaders were clever
 
and would not let them disband. 
They changed the myth
and with a stroke
took away Yahu’s name.
 
Nevermore their ancestral god, 
he was now a terrible lord
who reigned over the region. 
And, something darker,
 
something more,
he allowed the tribe’s defeat.
Neigh, he assured it –
as their punishment. 
 
This innovation was better
than the fork, or the wheelbarrow,
or the book – all of which were yet
dreams of the distant future. 
 
This tribe’s leaders dreamed big
and they made big changes. 
It was no time to fuck. 
It was time to fight, and fear. 
 
So, they got sex out of the temples,
killed off Asherah, and brought back
El’s rite of circumcision –
a new covenant
 
with one rule for every bone
and one for every day of the year. 
what to eat and not
what to wear and not 
 
what to plant and not
what to say and not
what to think and not
A jumble of so many rules,
 
they were impossible to follow - by design. 
So when any misfortune befell the tribe,
it was the tribe’s fault for breaking the rules
and angering He with no name.
 
And the tribe became fearful,
but they didn’t disband.  They complied
and tried harder than ever
to please their priestly kings.
 
The Fish.
 
Benevolent ancestral gods
were chopped, parted and resold
as one terrifying master to serve -
hammer of the priest-kings.
 
It was political gold…
But pretenders to the throne,
they saw it, too.  And they were many.
Internal political strife was rampant,
 
though punishment was harsh –
but the prize suffered no deterrence. 
Endless intrigues caused endless unrest -
And Rome didn’t like unrest.
 
So they sent General Pompey
to put down the rebels and he did,
but the intrigues continued. 
New would-be priest-kings continued to scheme. 
 
And each one had new rules of their own –
they had mastered El’s game. 
Put a scythe in their hearts
and they’ll castrate themselves.
 
And the scythe became ever sharper
as new men made new rules. 
Obey or die became obey or burn, forever
Facing the fire, lions became willing lambs
 
and the flock grew. 
The new myth was magic.
But Yahu was a regional overlord,
so they gave him a son. 
 
And they made him a lamb
but they called him the Fish. 
And he had new rules for everyone, everywhere. 
And these new rules
 
were easy to remember –
just be a lamb and obey. 
So a myth from a king
became a myth for the king.
 
No longer about making the stars
into a clock for the tribe
to know when to sow or reap or sail,
it was now about how to obey.
 
Finally even the kings of Rome
saw the myth’s awesome power
so they stole it, too, and they
made it the law of Rome.
 
The Seal.
 
Then yet still further south,
came a tribeless shepherd
Illiterate, but hungry to be king.
He saw the power of the myth
 
and so too - the rules…. 
So he entered a cave,
conjured an angel, and
played the game once more.
 
He changed Yahu’s name,
demoted the Fish, and made
more rules of his own. 
He needed lions, not lambs,
 
for conquest was his aim.
His new myth was a sword
and he called it submission. 
Then he marched to become king
 
not of one hill, but of them all,
everywhere in the world.
And conquer he did. 
And after he died,
the new leaders of his new tribe
 
continued his fight. Taking
all of the desert, and then
west to the sea – and then north
they swept through Anatolia,
 
birthplace of El, and slew
the last of the Roman kings,
near the Golden Horn,
at the center of the world.
 
The Marble Emperor
had no control of the flock –
long lost to the priests
who kept making changes
 
including a new spiritual king.
The heirs of the Seal
made no such mistake. 
Never more any changes
 
And nevermore any division
between the king and his cult. 
The stolen myth, tuned for conquest
was all politics now, and built to last.
 
And though it slept for awhile,
it is now wide awake
with the same thirst for conquest
and renewed taste for blood. 
 
it’s growing fast, despite
the transparency of its lies -
that women are chattel
and the earth is flat
 
and the sun races across the sky
to its nightly rest,
in a pool of mud. 
Facts don't matter.
 
Argument is apostasy
and science is a sword. 
Submission and conquest
are the dark beating heart
 
of the myth-to-end-all-myths,
for the king-to-end-all-kings. 
Now it’s war for our blue marble –
it’s what they do these days.
 
The Awakening.
 
When they fled back to Italy,
they brought all of the books
of science and art they could carry. 
They started an awakening
 
that continues today. 
And while, I cherish that flower
and its lovely red fruit,
I am no renaissance man. 
 
I choose my own tribe,
and trust in no myths,
scorning both priests and kings.
I’ve played king of the hill. 
 
I’ve studied the stars,
learned a bit about nature,  
and love strong women
who fuck who they please. 
 
I am a Bronze Age man,
who six millennia late, still
wears the scars of El’s mark -
but there is no scythe in my heart.
 
Like the rest of my tribe,
I love music and art
and the gifts that our minds have made. 
I honor my forebears
 
for the good of their deeds
and their work to save all our kind. 
I know heaven and hell
are the shackles of slaves,
 
and I want none for me or my friends. 
But the Seal and the Fish,
gird for a fight to the death,
and threaten to burn it all down. 
 
And, though this fight isn’t mine,
I have nowhere to go and
my peaceful tribe is caught
between two armies of God,
 
both armed with the fire of the sun. 
It’s time to awaken and open our eyes
and prepare for what we must do.
We’ve eaten the apple
 
to its heretical core
and now is the time to act.
let us be Titans
and take up the scythe, 
 
And with words and deeds,
confront the old cults,
their merchants of death,
and castrate these chop shop myths.