Mad Devil Radio

by Richard R. Best

What mad devil radio do you listen to in the cockpit of your ancient heart?
Timebound, space notwithstanding, and two cents
Faces the grim reality of inflation of an idea's true worth
(Concept founders in a mire of factoidalism)
So the world slides by sideways in an unambitioned moment
Of pure response, no stimulus, just action and the
Imminent precision of decided definition
Possessed by the vague intimation of a second chance,
The romance of the notion of the motion of a door handle
Twisted open by fate's furry paw, much more delicate
Than the heavy hand of predestination
A sudden sense of vertigo, ice unfolding
The petals of a crystalline rose
Transformed and transfigured by the
Transcendant prayer of a monk contemplating
An artificial lifeform stranded in a silicon desert dustscape,
The silhouette of his cowl a distant translucent hole or halo on a near horizon,
An irreverant reversal of misfortune that does not betoken
Karma cashing in on remorse for faits accompli
That might have been better left undone,
Or maybe not, but who knows
What would have happened if it hadn't happened?

Mad Devil Radio (Part 2)

Lying there one night in a sort of halfway to fever delirium,
I heard a noise, kind of like a wet hand rubbing along a wall,
That sort of hwronking, whonking, honking staccato sound—
Turned out it was a voice, and then there was another, answering it,
Speaking words in an almost tangible and certainly comprehensible fashion—
Performed quickly all my usual psychic checks against the possibility of hallucination—
No—
Just God and one of his buddies talking on some kind of mad devil radio,
And I don't know how I happened to catch the particular frequency,
But at that moment, that was the least of my worries,
As I snuggled deeper into my bed and worked on being
Absolutely mindquiet, small and inconspicuous as possible;
God knows, or rather, I didn't want him to, at least not right then and there,
That I didn't care to be noticed
The conversation, as far as I could follow it, had to do with recent developments
(Within the past few thousand years or so) of this project and the other
With which they were, for the most part, highly pleased
("Of course," even 'mongst God and his coterie, not all goes
Quite exactly as originally planned ...)
But on the other hand, none of the talk was about
Earth, or humans, nor any other terrestrial species
(So far as I could tell, dependent on the context)
I kind of wondered about that, but flatlined it
With a footnote to take a deeper look into my curiosity
Later,
When I was in less immediate danger of perhaps being stepped on
Something like a couple of hours later, the two said their goodbyes,
And the other left (or so I thought), and I was hoping God would go too,
But instead he came over and sat down on the edge of my bed
"Been pretty quiet tonight, boy," he said
"Well, I ... didn't want to interrupt," I said
And he sat there

And he sat there

And he sat there
"Still bein' quiet, boy?" he asked, after a while
"If you'll pardon my saying so, I'm not quite sure just exactly what one says to God
In a situation like this.
I mean, thank you and all for everything, and I do mean everything, even though
There have been times when you haven't helped out quite as much as I might have wished—
Though I'm thankful for that, too, I suppose—
I mean, I always felt a little guilty for asking—"
"It's alright, son," God said, making a sound kind of like a spit
(Impossible to know for sure, there in the darkness,
But I hoped he hadn't gotten anything on the carpet—
The landlord certainly wouldn't appreciate it,
Even if it was a loogie from God)
"You've done well enough. Most of you have, truth be told—
Sure, you could do better, an' some of you are even tryin' for that.
I'm not sayin' you can slack off, boy.
Nobody's racked up that many points.
Hell, my own kid, I've still got him doing missionary work here and there.
But the deep thought for the day is: Don't ever give up."
With that, he heaved a sigh and a grunt and himself up off the bed, and
Shuffled off into I don't know where, but beyond where my room usually goes
I rolled over thinking to return to sleep,
But there she was
I could tell you she was beautiful, but that wouldn't half explain it,
And to say she glowed would give you the wrong impression—
It was a darkness that folded around her,
Deeper than—well, never mind the clichés—
Yet I could make out every detail
As the ebon glimmer flowed here and there around her form,
Revealing one place as it drew itself away to conceal somewhere else
I have that moment locked away in memory,
A precious treasure that I can take out and look at
Any time I want to
The surge of lust that started in my groin never made it to my brain—
This was someone who might appreciate someone losing control
For her sake, but that would not necessarily mean
That they would receive what they desired from her
"Such discipline," she cooed, as she stretched her length beside me
"What is it that you fear?"
"I fear—not much," I said, "Not you, nor death by your hands,
Nor death by any other's
I fear—living my life as a slave to someone else's decisions,
Prostituted to their whim, for whatever form the coin might take,
No longer free to my own choice, decisions of my own."
"So cold, so cold," she said, gathering me into her arms,
"Do you care nothing for my charms?" I smiled, for I knew the chance that I might have won,
Or at least not lost—and she had opportunity to win as well,
So that no defeat would be counted necessary
"If freely given, then freely received," I said, running a finger along her lower lip,
"If paid for neither with coin nor with soul, but nothing more than the giving in return
Of such joy as may be received in your august presence,
Then you may tarry, and seek your pleasure as you will,
Now, and whenever, such as I may be able to satisfy.
Else, you may turn and go—you're beautiful, true enough, but my hand will suffice
In your absence, if there's no true happiness,
But only cold comfort born of bitterness,
To be found in the confines of your arms and elbows."
She laughed so hard she almost guffawed, the bed creaking as her weight shifted,
And then turned and curled in closer
"I'll stay the night, then," she murmured, and then,
"I remember when I was disappointed with you lot—and with good reason—
I still don't know how he might have managed such as yourself
From what he started with."
Looked at me, her eyes straight into mine, "And I'm still not sure he can pull it off,"
Laid her head back down on the pillow
"There are a few good and pure among you—and I mean really,
Though there are still also those whose faith is blind,
There are a greater number than ever before who know what they're talking about—
Of course, the ignorant squirming mass continues to grow exponentially as well,
But there's possibility that some one among you may discover
Some way to deal reasonably with even that."
"I hate to be rude," I said—
"Yes?"—
"Well, I do have to get to work in the morning,
And I've already lost a couple of hours,
And I was wondering—"
"No beating around the bush, is that it?" she smiled and pouted,
But lifted a leg over my hip to grant me access all the same
"Maybe some other time," I said, "Some other time, after we've talked more.
But tonight, I'm just—"
"Talking about sleep," she said, and smiled
"You really think you're worth waiting for, huh?"
"Pff—I dunno—that'll have to be your decision," I said.
"Goodnight."

Copyright © Richard R. Best 2003