On The Steppe

On the steppe there
Is a wall
Not very wide
Not very tall.
But you cannot go
'Round that wall
It all seems
Rather odd.

To get from here
To over there
You have to climb
The wall ... that's
Shrouded in
A mystery,
Portends, perhaps
Of god.

A mystery; no name
Or face
It came before
Before.
A mystery that
Defies space
And time -
Forevermore.

We must go from here
To there
So we must climb
The wall.
'Cause out there on
That lonely steppe
Is where we
Find ourselves.

But even as
we climb the wall
The mystery
Remains.
Yet in the climb
We find ourselves
Mysteriously
Reclaimed.

© 2006 and 2008 by Jacob Anson. All rights reserved

A New Religion in a Book

Some folks believe
Most anything
That's written in a
Book.
Even if it's
Written by
A chef who cannot
Cook!

You can write
Of crazy things
Like gods up in the
Sky.
And folks will say
It must be true
'Cause books just never
Lie.

So, I am going to
Write a book
And I'll let you know right
Now:
I'm going to make a
Bundle
Let me show you
How.

I'll start a new
Religion
One with a brand-new
Look.
And like the other
Testaments
I'll write it in a
Book.

I'll make it really
Easy
I won't have any
Rules.
Just send me
Ten percent
Of all your money and your
Jewels.

The best part is my book
Will describe a
Palatial
Paradise.
And how a million
Buckaroos
Reserves
Eternity's
Surprise.

When you die.

© 2006 and 2010 by Jacob Anson. All rights reserved.