In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 38-40

Once in a while, I wake up and I hear
an unfamiliar air inside my head,
but when I move the tune will disappear.
(I need to keep a pencil by my bed.)

Now maybe someone thought of it before,
and maybe later on another will,
but what if it is heard again no more?
It has no chance an audience to thrill.

Oh, well, it’s no great loss. Unlike these rhymes,
my musical attempts are pretty small,
but I just like to speculate sometimes
about the way things might have been. That’s all.

©2013 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 34-37

Now, we could add a footnote of our own
about why I’m behaving like a bird,
were we that line of thinking to condone,
which isn’t likely—none but Esther heard.

And even if she had not done the crime,
who would have listened? Who’d have understood?
And even if he’d said it in our time,
would more exposure have done any good?

No, Ciral’s thesis would not have survived.
As anyone can see, it can’t be true.
Our values are objectively derived.
At least I’m sure that mine are. How ’bout you?

But it was not subjected to the Gong.
Yes, that’s the part of this that makes me frown.
’Twas never tried and proven to be wrong.
Nobody got a chance to shoot it down.

The Gong: The Gong Show was a short-lived television talent show spoof (1976-1980), in which judges struck a gong when they disapproved of an act.
©2013 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 30-33

So why did Ciral think this must be so?
He’d put his thinking organ through the rack
attempting to explain why people go
to such great lengths to set their egos back.

He’d reckoned that the reason must relate
to some resemblance that our minds infer
between those weaker and those we create.
More helpless entities are needier.

But is that not our wont instinctively?
Why would we need a value to assist
the process that has grown our fam’ly tree?
Big brains should only help. No, there’s a twist.

What he was thinking, then, goes well beyond
the pressure on a woman to conceive.
He thought this led to much of which we’re fond—
quite possibly to all that we believe.

©2013 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 27-29

“There was a break in equilibrium
’tween will to live and willingness to breed
when women figured out whence babies come.
They saw a sign that said ‘Reduce your seed’.

“Self-interest began then to conflict
with that of our creators. One would think
that natural selection would have picked
a brain incapable of such a link.

“But if a woman, knowing this much, could
be taught she ought to make the sacrifice,
she’d have more children than her neighbors would
and pass the lesson to her kids. How nice.”

©2013 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 23-26

But if we play a little guessing game,
we might discern a crude hypothesis,
and we’ll assume that Ciral’s was the same,
though not so many fancy words as this:

“We like to think we’re special, and we are,
as though our souls were heavenly bestowed,
but seen from a perspective, from afar,
we’re carriers for our genetic code.

“And with that code resides another kind,
on which our personalities depend.
The second type is transferred to a mind
by causing other minds the code to send.

“The second needs the product of the first.
The first, in turn relies on Number Two,
without which it would never be dispersed
because, alas, said product got a clue.

©2013 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 19-22

The women Ciral left have gone home since
we foreshadowed that feat. (Are we not proud?)
I tried as well to drop sufficient hints
that God has come to work the compound crowd.

I shouldn’t be so hard on the big guy,
for in our story, He came out on top.
I wouldn’t want it spread around that I
am not a gracious loser to Our Pop.

That still sounds adversarial. Oh, dear.
That connotation would be inexact.
I know why people need something to fear.
That fits with Ciral’s theory, in fact.

Which is? All who have managed to digest
the gist can just skip past this to the end,
and, most unfortunately for the rest,
all firsthand knowledge perished with our friend.
©2013 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 13-18

Before we leave, I’d like to linger on
the question of God’s new identity.
I have a picture by a master drawn.
I copy it. What image do you see?

Or better yet: You find a long-lost sheet
of notes and plunk them out on your guitar.
They represented melody and beat
but weren’t those things before, and now they are.

You certainly did not compose that piece.
Did it exist, though, in the heretofore?
When no one heard it, did the music cease?
Or was it dormant, like a mildew spore?

Suppose that, unbeknownst to you, the song
is being played somewhere they don’t read notes,
evolving somewhat as it goes along
from strings to ear through various misquotes.

I’m thinking that when these two versions meet,
those who have learned the tune will disagree
which one is more sublime or sounds more sweet,
all based on which one was know previously.

Let’s drop that, though; the two gods’ paths won’t cross.
The indoor god stays happily within,
oblivious of ’97’s loss
and the existence of His outdoor kin.

©2013 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 9-12

Hey, wait a minute: Why are we concerned
about a nonexistent entity?
One is, in all effect, something that turned
into a god from nothing, isn’t she?

The fact that we’re discussing her, though, shows
that she is something worthy of our thought.
Must everything be smelled by someone’s nose,
or seen, or heard, or touched to not be naught?

And that reminds me: Where is our equivalent?
When last we saw Him outside, he’d been raised
from mere words on a paper testament
to His old state, essentially unfazed.

Is this the God who lived in Esther’s brain?
If so, He never died (although He shrank).
I’d still be as impressed. He rose again
with none among the insiders to thank.

Worthy of our thought: Here we return to the meme theme that he started to develop in Canto I. ©2013 Louis A. Merrimac

In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 5-8

Oh well, they’ll be okay. Someday the sign
from One they’ve been awaiting will appear
to give them new direction and refine
the nature of the creature that they fear.

The more they wait, the more will be their needs.
The more they need, the lesser they’ll accept.
I’m starving, so I’ll eat some poppy seeds.
I’ll lie on concrete if I haven’t slept.

Some will be faithful, yet discouraged by
the way the sinners do what sinners do.
They’ll go out in the wilderness and cry
for One to show the sinners who is who.

And what the tubes will read as One’s response
will modifiy their dogma, more or less.
The mother of them all will have new wants.
Precisely what is anybody’s guess.

Someday the sign…will appear: Or not. If it doesn’t come through in time, “Tincandom” will go the way of the Neanderthals. To make Ciral’s theory complete, we need to include the probability that some groups of humans did not find religion when they became aware of the meaning of life, that they perished for its lack, and that some who did develop a faith system didn’t survive as well as those with stronger or more adaptable religions. Again, one wishes that he had elaborated on these important points. The closest he came to explaining this was the one television interview he gave: “I had run out of rhymes by that point.”
Poppy seed…concrete: I’d say Merrimac is grasping at straws with these analogies.
©2013 Louis A. Merrimac