A/N: This is based on Stan Lee's original ''God Woke'' poem. Again, it is not my intention to offend any religious group, especially fellow Christians, by replacing Him with a girl like her.
However, upon reading the poem a few times, I couldn't help but visualize Lydia Deetz in his place and trying to be benevolent with the beings of the world she created, as well as an imminent tragedy that will be very present by the last verses.
The basic premise is that Lydia died of some rare disease during her early '40s, and when she entered the afterlife, she ended up in a room that made her think she was some sort of a goddess in a blank cosmos, minus a few stars and some planets. She got the idea to create her own Earth based on her own believes and thoughts, hoping she'll make a better version of humanity than the one she experienced in all of her lifetime.
I don't own this amazing Stan Lee poem, nor Lydia Deetz from the Beetlejuice film. This is only meant to pay tribute to these two entities and I can only hope that you will enjoy it as much as I did writing it. So here it goes. And don't forget to tell me in your reviews what you thought of it.
''When God Woke Again''
Lydia woke
She stretched and yawned and looked around
Haunted by a thought unfound
A vagrant thought that would not die
She rose and scanned the endless sky
She probed the is, she traced the was
She sought the yet to be
And then she found the planet Earth, the half remembered planet Earth
Steeped in pain and tragedy
And all at once she knew
She saw the world that she had wrought to suit her master plan
And then she saw the changes brought by the heedless hand of man
Man, so frail, so small
Yet lord of all
Striving, thriving
Hustling, bustling
Sowing, growing, ever going
Ever learning, never knowing
Less than righteous, less than just
And in the end condemned to dust
She heard the man-sounds everywhere
The shots, the clangs, the roars, the bangs
The clatter, clammer, guns and hammer
And then she found to her despair
The haunting hollow sound of prayer
A billion bodies ever bending
A billion voices never ending
"Give me…", "Get me…"
"Grant me…", "Let me…"
"Love me", "Free me"
"Hear me", "See me"
While she pondered, watched and waited
Endlessly they supplicated
Chanting, ranting
Moaning, groaning
Sighing, crying
Cheating, lying
But towards what goal? What grand direction?
This pious tide of genuflection
To please their lord, to please their god
She raised her head and laughed, laughed hard
At man, the enigma, calling for aid
Ever demanding, ever afraid
Man, the enigma, bewailing his fate
Yet plagued by inaction till ever too late
Paradoxical man, so fearful of death
Yet squandering life and lavishing breath
Wasting his hours, diluting his days
Accomplishing nothing while he prays and he prays
Hypocritical man, pompous and preening
Mouthing his rote
Just from the throat
Words without feeling
Sound without meaning
Such arrogance, such grand conceit
To think one's self somehow elite
To demand each prayer be heard with care
While painfully, vainfully all unaware
One's omnipotent, infinite, absolute lord
Is bored
Lydia frowned
How dare they believe that The Way and The Light
Can be constantly badgered from morning till night?
By what senseless standard? By what senseless rule?
Do they treat their creator as if she's their tool
While proclaiming her glory, do they think her a fool?
Who else but a fool with a cosmos to savour
Would be bound just to Earth granting boon, granting favour
Who else but a fool with a cosmos unfolding
Would linger with man ever praising and scolding
Who else but a fool with a cosmos to stray in
Would conceive her an ant-hill and like a prisoner stay in
Who else but a fool would create mortal men
And then be expected to tend them, mend them,
Cry for them, die for them over and over and over again
Lydia sighed
I gave them minds as I recall, it was so long ago
I gave them minds that they might use to choose, to think, to know
For the hapless weak, must needs be wise, if they would prove their worth
And then I gave them paradise, the fertile verdant Earth
At first I found the plan was sound and somewhat entertaining
But once begun, the deed now done, my interest started waning
The seed thus sown
The twig now grown
I left them there
Alone
Alone, among the planets and the stars
And the endless fathomless all
Alone, bathed by light and clothed by dark
Midst the vague and the vast and the small
Alone
Alone as I have ever been, as I shall ever be
Why do they not accept it? How else can they be free?
Why do they not accept it? Why do they search for me?
Why?
When their own little lives are so barren and brief
When all of their pleasures are tarnished by grief
In the space of a heartbeat their present is past
They cling to each moment, but no moment can last
When the end comes so quickly and they soon are forgot
Why do they search for that which is not?
Like unto children lost in the night
They search for a God to guide them
Like unto children huddled in fright
They must have their God beside them
But what sort of children, from cradle to grave
Would grant her obiance and yet make her their slave?
They have conjured a heaven and there she must stay
Ever responsive, be it night, be it day
She must love and forgive them and comply when they pray
Ever attentive, never to stray
And like unto children in their childish zeal
They worship their dream thinking fantasy real
Lydia pondered
She, The Be All, The End All, The Will and The Way
The Power, The Glory, The Night and The Day
The Word and The Law, The Fount and The Plan
Lady Lydia Almighty, was baffled by man
She was puzzled by the paradox
By the irony there in
If only she could show them
But where would she begin?
How to make them understand, how to make them see
How to make them recognize their own insanity
They live for gain and they strive in vain
To circumvent their death
But all the gold and wealth untold
Won't buy an extra breath
They bestow acclaim and they shower fame
On those who rise to power
But those who care, who love and share
Are forgot within the hour
They're prone to fight, to use their might
For whatever flag they cherish
But those who cry "To arms" don't die
Their young are sent to perish
Yes, all unsung, they kill their young
Who fall and die and then they cry
But why?
A different house of worship? A different colour skin?
A piece of land that's coveted and the drums of war begin
Only death can triumph, there's no place left to hide
And still the madmen ply their trade claiming Lydia is on their side
Of all who live, who crawl and creep
Who take and give, who wake and sleep
Who run, who stand, who dot the land from shore to shore
Man, only man, none but man, wages war
Only man, eternally killing
Only man, infernally willing
To concede himself grace
To bury his race
Only man, earnestly praying to his god as he's slaying and piously saying
As the battles increase
He does what he must for his motives are just
The mayhem, the carnage, the slaughter won't cease
But no need to worry, Lydia's in his corner, he's killing for peace
Man
His greed, his hate, his crime, his war
The Lady, our Lydia, could bear no more
She looked her last at man so small
So lately risen, so soon to fall
She looked her last and had to know
Whose fault this anguish, this mortal woe?
Had man failed maker? Or maker, man?
Who was the planner? And whose the plan?
She looked her last then turned aside
She knew the answer, that's why Lydia cried