Those who set out to serve both God and Mammon soon discover that there isn't a God.
quote by Logan Pearsall Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those who set out to serve both God and Mammon soon discover that there is no God.
quote by Logan P. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gender Imbalance
All he wanted
was one woman.
To love him
ardently always.
One woman.
One faithful woman.
To love ardently.
To love throughout eternity.
She worshiped
Mammon. Money.
He will be deserted.
Together. Never. Forever.
Money is her security.
She knows not. True love.
True Love Is Recipe.
For True Soulful Security.
She chose Mammon.
She chose Money Honey.
She chose not Agape.
She chose not Eros.
‘Mammon is riches
personified as evil’.
‘Wealth regarded as a God
or evil influence’.
Mammon. ‘The god of greed’.
‘The acquiring of wealth[, ]
and belief[, ] that is the most
important thing in life’.
For Mammon he was lost.
For Mammon was her boss.
They will be together.
Together Forever Never.
Dedicated to wise Louise
who believes
money is security.
And knows that people
have a better life, with it,
than without it?
To Louise who lives
like all realistic women
by the balance sheet.
Tortured Materialistically.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Common Cult
Up to the House of Mammon, from dawn to sister dawn,
Called by remembered voices the sons of men are drawn;
By noon the dust goes skyward, by night the torches flare,
On veining roads that mingle—and you and I are there.
Around the House of Mammon, like ruined cities’ stones,
The stubborn and the haughty have left their trampled bones.
They were the few in number that would not enter in,
Saying, “The god is evil.” Saying, “To kneel is sin.”
The ebony House of Mammon goes up against the sky;
The north wind and the south wind before its portals die.
Its towers go near to Heaven; its vaults go nearer Hell,
And all are fat with favor to some who serve them well.
Before the House of Mammon stand you not overlong,
But enter to the worship, unnoted in the throng;
There it is ill to parley, to ask the why or when,
For he whose line would prosper shall be as other men.
Within the House of Mammon august the twilights are,
Across whose gulf the portal gleams smaller than a star.
The bucklers of the mighty in rust and ruin melt,
Above those deep foundations where king and pontiff knelt.
Within the House of Mammon low thunder of loud pray’rs
Rolls from the burdened pavement and coiled, colossal stairs—
Petition and obeisance, when each makes known his need,
Begging the flamens hearken, begging the largess speed.
Within the House of Mammon his priesthood stands alert,
By mysteries attended, by dusk and splendors girt,
Knowing, for faiths departed, his own shall still endure,
And they be found his chosen, untroubled, solemn, sure.
Within the House of Mammon the golden altar lifts
Where dragon-lamps are shrouded as costly incense drifts—
A dust of old ideals, now fragrant from the coals,
To tell of hopes long ended, to tell the death of souls.
Within the House of Mammon there is no need of song,
And faced by them who doubt not, no doubt endures for long;
Tho twilight hold the temple, there yet each one shall see
The Word of Words, the letters that spell “Necessity.”
Beyond the House of Mammon there is no need to go,
And other fanes are shadow, whose figments melt and flow.
Grown weary of the service, no scoffer long derides,
For past the veils and darkness, a very god abides….
Above the House of Mammon, the hours and ages tread,
Nor find the ramparts shaken, nor see the sentries fled,
Till o’er the massy columns, broken like those of Tyre,
The long-awaited Morning go winged with crystal fire.
poem by George Sterling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Great Game
We who play the great game
instinctively know our enemies
as our enemies instinctively
know us and so it has always been
across centuries thousands of
years as we each serve our masters.
Life and Death is the shadow game we play
those of us who play hard prepare to die
to live or die always ultimately for what we
believe in this never ending game power
struggles in quests to be free to enslave
we choose our sides thus we live or die.
We all play the game at various skill levels
some hide some observe act some risk all
some serve Mammon some serve Heaven
and when all the battle dust finally settles
what will be our waiting final resting place?
What rewards await those who served wrong master?
When people are prepared to fight for power
people die people are killed in such struggles
it is not called a power struggle for nothing.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The God that i serve
if you want to serve the God that
i serve you gotta be strong
if you want to serve the God that
i serve you gotta be prepared to live
a holy a life becouse my God is so
holy
if you want to serve the God that i
serve you gotta have a strong a faith
becouse with my God everything is
possible
if you want to serve the God that i serve
you gotta be prepared to serve your
spirit not your flesh
if you want to serve the God that i serve
you gotta fear not
becouse he protects us
day and night
he is a God who doesnt
sleep
if you want to serve the God that
i serve you gotta be prepared
to bring all your deasess
becouse he is jehova rhafa
and he can heal all your deasess
he is jehova jaera the lord my
provider
my God is jehova niecey
strong in battles
he is jehova shalom the God
that will get you the peace of mind
poem by Mathilda Maphori
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One must know oneself, if this does not serve to discover truth, it at least serves as a rule of life and there is nothing better.
quote by Blaise Pascal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One must know oneself. If this does not serve to discover truth, it at least serves as a rule of life and there is nothing better.
quote by Blaise Pascal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I remember now
I remember wanting it back
I remember all the boredom
I remember all the security
I remember holding myself back
I remember the want
I remember the denial
I remember getting it back
I discover all of the excitement
I discover all the new ways
I discover all the acceptance
I discover all of the interest
I discover all the greenest grass
I remember all of the dreams
I remember all the waiting
I remember all the uncertainty
I remember all the letting down
I remember what I ought not to have forgotten
I remember the limbo of my decisions
poem by Jack Cyclone
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Dancing flesh.
The precious waste of a woman is a baby,
The unavoidable taste of the bodies that display,
The uncontrollable haste of the man that overlooks,
The new generation of human is produced without avail.
The creation of Gods, serve them no more
The creations of Man serve them so well,
The net that entangles quarter of population,
Dismantle the family bond without any trail.
The sweat may change the landscape,
The hard labor may chase away the poverty,
The thought may think to discover,
The memories may stop to recover.
We are the remnants of the waste, but priceless,
What we eat, seek, save, inherit and then leave,
Garbage that collected in our body and soul,
What that can't be seen, are our only luggage.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Public servants
People seek posts to serve from
So that they can serve you better
And get more than they serve.
15.04.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Legend of Mammon Castle
IN THE days that will be olden after many years are gone,
Ere the world emerged from darkness floating out into the dawn,
On a mountain rising steeply from the depth of marsh and wood
Raised in scorn above the lowlands Mammon Castle proudly stood—
Mammon Castle, built of marble that was cut and reared with pain
By the poor and starving wretches who were serfs on that domain—
All the jewel-studded windows shone at sunset like a fire,
And a diamond was flashing from the needle of the spire.
Now the nobles held the castle by a title that was old,
And they drank from crystal goblets and they ate from plates of gold;
The coffers of the castle they were plenished by the thralls,
And many were the revels that were held in Mammon’s halls.
And the plunder from the toilers more than paid for silks and wine,
So the flower-beds were bordered with the jewels of the mine,
All the serfs were taught to worship both the lady and the lord,
And the nobles taught their children to be wiser far than God.
But a vassal preached sedition and in a gloomy hour
Came the wild and haggard vassals to the gate of Mammon Tower;
They asked for food and shelter and were answered by a blow,
And, rising in their anger, soon they laid the castle low.
The jewels of the castle went to buy the people bread,
And according to his labour was the toiler clothed and fed.
And with the wood and marble—my dreaming tells me so—
Many little homes were builded in the valleys down below.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The men and women who serve this great nation, whether they are stationed in Iraq, Fort Riley, or the Korean Peninsula, or they serve us at home as our community first responders, serve because they believe in America.
quote by Kathleen Sebelius
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gotta Serve Somebody
You may be an ambassador to england or france,
You may like to gamble, you might like to dance,
You may be the heavyweight champion of the world,
You may be a socialite with a long string of pearls
But youre gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
Youre gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the lord
But youre gonna have to serve somebody.
You might be a rock n roll addict prancing on the stage,
You might have drugs at your command, women in a cage,
You may be a business man or some high degree thief,
They may call you doctor or they may call you chief
But youre gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
Youre gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the lord
But youre gonna have to serve somebody.
You may be a state trooper, you might be a young turk,
You may be the head of some big tv network,
You may be rich or poor, you may be blind or lame,
You may be living in another country under another name
But youre gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
Youre gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the lord
But youre gonna have to serve somebody.
You may be a construction worker working on a home,
You may be living in a mansion or you might live in a dome,
You might own guns and you might even own tanks,
You might be somebodys landlord, you might even own banks
But youre gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
Youre gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the lord
But youre gonna have to serve somebody.
You may be a preacher with your spiritual pride,
You may be a city councilman taking bribes on the side,
You may be workin in a barbershop, you may know how to cut hair,
You may be somebodys mistress, may be somebodys heir
But youre gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
Youre gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the lord
But youre gonna have to serve somebody.
Might like to wear cotton, might like to wear silk,
Might like to drink whiskey, might like to drink milk,
You might like to eat caviar, you might like to eat bread,
You may be sleeping on the floor, sleeping in a king-sized bed
But youre gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
Youre gonna have to serve somebody,
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the lord
But youre gonna have to serve somebody.
You may call me terry, you may call me timmy,
You may call me bobby, you may call me zimmy,
You may call me r.j., you may call me ray,
You may call me anything but no matter what you say
Youre gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
Youre gonna have to serve somebody.
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the lord
But youre gonna have to serve somebody.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everybody can be great... because anybody can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. you only need a heart full of grace. a soul generated by love.
quote by Martin Luther King
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Balaam's Wish
How blest the righteous are
When they resign their breath!
No wonder Balaam wished to share
In such a happy death.
Oh! let me die, said he,
The death the righteous do;
When life is ended let me be
Found with the faithful few.
The force of truth how great!
When enemies confess,
None but the righteous whom they hate,
A solid hope possess.
But Balaam's wish was vain,
His heart was insincere;
He thirsted for unrighteous gain,
And sought a portion here.
He seemed the Lord to know,
And to offend him loth;
But Mammon proved his overthrow,
For none can serve them both.
May you, my friends, and I,
Warning from hence receive;
If like the righteous we would die,
To choose the life they live.
poem by John Newton
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Prophecy Of The Children
it matters not
if I be youth
or if I be age
God hath said
all my children
will be beautiful
as God has said
so will it be
God cannot lie
Beautiful in God’s eyes
beautiful as God sees
as God beauty conceives
not beauty as impurity man sees
not in eyes of corporate man
not beauty as mammon man sees
and thus it came to pass
behold children born
beauty latent within heart
beauty destined to bequeath
beauty to enlighten
beauty passed on to God’s
future
faithful
children
Blessed Servants Be
Serve God Through Eternity
Oppose Evil In Perpetuity
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Sarah’s Shadow – Silhouette Shines
You said
in riches vault cruel
Cave of Mammon
you did dwell.
I said
I’ve been there
more than once
as well.
You said
you love poetry
creativity
and fine art.
I said
that’s total
embodiment
of my heart.
You spoke
with wisdom
impressive theory
I too believe.
I spoke
with love
of inspirational wonder
I conceive.
You spoke
of getting together
for a cup of coffee.
I spoke of joy
in such greeting when
we have time free.
Time has a complex ploy
for us time free will ever be.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
The Cave of Mammon. From the 'Faery Queene'. By Edmund Spenser. (Old English poet,1552? –1599)
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Lovely Girls Lying Stretched Out Everywhere
On the beach I did discover them,
with bodies shining in the sun,
lovely girls lying stretched out everywhere.
On the beach I did discover them,
where from under dark glasses they catch the eye
and I wonder what they were thinking of me?
On the beach I did discover them,
with bodies shining in the sun.
poem by Gert Strydom
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