Your Gods!
you have shown me your gods,
by the glint of your teeth,
by the knives in your hands,
by the stink of your breath.
by your churches built,
over the unmarked graves
of your own children...
by the wealth you gather,
or that gathers you.
by the crumbs on your pillows,
and the roar of your success,
drowning out the tiny voices,
you grind beneath your feet...
you have shown me your gods,
they look a lot like you...
and leave me with the empty
sacred rage of the poor!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
In The Lap Of The Gods
Ah ah ah ah ah
Leave it in the lap of the gods
Ah ah ah
I live my life for you
Think all my thoughts with you and only you
Anything you ask I do for you
I touch your lips with mine
But in the end I leave it to the lords
Leave it in the lap of the gods
What more can I do?
Leave it in the lap of the gods
I leave it to you
Leave it in the lap of the gods
Leave it in the lap of the gods
I want you to
Leave it in the lap of the gods
Leave it in the lap of the gods
Leave it in the lap of the gods
Lap of the gods
song performed by by Queen from Sheer Heart Attack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Adventurer of God
They are solid steel, the rocks are built by gods,
Mountains and volcanoes are one, by gods.
Yet we see the lava flow and the abolishment,
To address them is to arrive at and abandon, by gods.
Any geographical feature on the map carries fascination,
One is adventured, one is fine with distortion, by gods.
The map is a remedy for the plain and ill, the happier,
Yellow streams and wooden forests are a distinction, by gods.
Let us laugh and be merry on this whole globe,
Let godliness reign supreme with this incantation, by gods.
The gods are lovable towards their kingdom,
The wishes of the valley are mine in slow-motion, by the gods.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Grind
Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind
I can bend in sixty-eight ways
I have lived for twelve thousand days
Twenty-eight teeth inside my head
Grind three types of things and I'm sad that they're dead
Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Their Eyes
My success has not achieved respect,
In their eyes.
And I laugh from mine.
With the knowledge...
It is me who has chosen to be in their presence.
And success?
That was delivered to me,
When at birth I was blessed...
To have this experience called life!
And what more of a success can one possess?
If anything can be done without life as it is known...
I haven't been shown.
As of yet.
And until that happens,
I'll do what God expects.
And that is to have no other gods before Him!
That is a 'memo' I understand clearly.
And that is a confession I will always profess.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Empty Hands
He rode in town on a white horse
With nothing in his hands
He came to gather his people
And take them to their promised land
When he came he knew there would be bloodshed
But still no violence made his plans
He came to fight in a battle
With no guns or money
But with his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
They said hey boy what you lookin'at
As they eyed his dreaded mane
He said my father has sent me
I've come back to reclaim
The children whose hearts
Were so whole and pure
Now it's you who'll die in pain
So they lynched the man
Who fooled the word
And all the children gathered
In his empty hands
In his empty hands
The children ..... empty hands
In his empty hands
With his empty hands
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wade In The Water
(first release, live version minneapolis, december 22, 1961traditional, arranged by bob dylan)
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Well, who are these children all dressed in red?
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Must-a-be the children that moses lead
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Well out of the mountain come fire an smoke
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Jehovah nobody be he couldve spoke
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Well, Im walkin down the highway an the waters gettin low
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Walkin down the highway, nowhere to go
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
But its wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Road To Gethsemane
on the road to Gethsemane...
i pass burned out buildings,
farm lands scorched by the bombing.
i pass the skeleton bodies
of young children who starved.
i pass the unmarked graves,
of young boys sent to war.
i pass the flag of the liars,
and the tents of mourning.
i pass vacant factories,
and houses left empty.
i pass through cocaine streets,
where all flesh is for sale.
i pass the unemployed masses,
and their desperate eyes.
i pass the baby born unwanted,
and the prison's stink.
i pass empty churches,
and hollow ringing bells.
i pass families broken,
and peoples enslaved.
i pass the moral guns of prejudice,
rank with immorality!
i pass the crippled, the sick,
and those desperately alone...
these tears of blood
are human tears,
this cross we all bear!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Gods
Gods of the white man,
Gods of the black man,
Gods of the almond shade
all of these Gods
have done one thing,
made the people afraid.
Gods of the red man,
Gods of the brown man
Gods of the yellow hue,
all of these Gods
have done the same
divided them into
Separate people
who've been led to believe
their God is the holy one
to save their souls
and pardon them
and deliver them
from earthly sin.
How can there be
so many Gods?
Isn't there only one?
One for every single soul
born unto this earth.
He's every color that there is
since the world's begun.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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“The Sea Had Shown Me Mercy”
“The sea had shown me mercy”-
I confessed to the prosy desert island beach.
Beneath my proud feet a sea star felt like a leech
My pyretic body and tanned skin felt more marooned!
And my pushy prosaic imagination had been swooned.
“The sea had shown me mercy”-
to the provocative palm trees I repeatedly said.
My prurient love fancied my lover with a mermaid.
The sea had shown me mercy.
My fake puritanical heart hid into the puny sand dune caves.
My putrid mind hated the laughing children of the waves.
The sea had shown me mercy.
The sea had shown me mercy
before the sun burnt my fatal desire to feel
that the precious glimmering ocean waters were real.
Written on the 13th August,2011
©Munia Khan 2011
poem by Munia Khan
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When They Moan
When they moan...
They are much upset.
And beset in troubled homes.
When they moan...
Storm clouds have arrived.
And they can not hide,
Their groans.
When they moan!
Fed up by the rise of lies,
Told about but denied.
And there is no where to put aside their pride,
When they moan.
With a besetting that upsets them...
In their troubled homes.
And displeasures once unknown are shown.
As they gather to scatter chatter,
That droans.
When they moan.
In voices now condoned,
They moan.
With a groaning shown and known,
From their homes.
Leaving no one left alone,
When the moaning droans.
Aye curumba!
With a groaning shown and known,
From their homes.
Aye curumba!
Leaving no one left alone,
When the moaning droans.
Aye curumba!
In voices now condoned...
They moan.
Aye curumba!
With a groaning shown and known,
From their homes.
Aye curumba!
Leaving no one left alone,
When the moaning droans.
Aye curumba!
In voices now condoned...
They moan.
Aye curumba!
With a groaning shown and known,
When they moan!
Dedicated:
To my Latino brothers and sisters,
experiencing injustices 'anywhere'...
all one day will be well.
Your struggles have not gone unnoticed.
And your contributions are duly noted!
I love you.
~LSP~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Genetic Engineering
Efficiant, logical, effective, and practical.
Using all resorces to the best of our ability.
Changing, designing, adapting our mentalities.
Improving our abilities for a better way of life.
Chorus:
Babies. mother. hospital. scissors.
Creature. judgement. butcher. engineer.
These are the little children, the future in our hands.
When all gods children on this earth inherit all our plans.
These are the lies they tell us. but this is the only way.
When all gods children on the earth will evermore be saved.
Repeat chorus (2)
These are the little children, the future in our hands.
When all gods children on this earth inherit all our plans.
These are the lies they tell us. the futures good as sold.
In all the things we do and know, we really must be told.
song performed by by Omd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Auri Sacra Fames
Now that the gods are dead—where shall we find us a god?
Myths of the Greek Olympus have sunk in the surge of Time;
And Jehovah, the God of Wrath, who stayed the sun at His nod;
And Jesus, the Nazarene, preaching a dream sublime.
Worship and form may live, practice and faith have fled.
Where shall we find us a god—now that the gods are dead?
What of the Old exists but feels the touch of the New?
Thousands of voices shout: where is the voice that leads?
Thro’ the wreathing mists of night will the grey of dawn be true,
In the age of vague unrest, strivings, and shattered creeds?
Where the children turn with scorn from the paths their fathers trod,
Now that the gods are dead, where shall we find us a god?
Gone are the mists of old in the light of the larger day!
Gone is the foolish hope, the trust in a Power above!
Science has swept the heavens and brushed religion away!
What need we hope or fear? Warfare is clothed like Love!
Priestcraft is but a trade—souls can be bought and sold!
Why should we seek for a god—now that our god is Gold?
Great were the gods of eld—a greater than all is near!
Noblest of all the powers which ruled o’er the soul of man!
Centuries paved the way, now the ideal is here
Product of all the aeons that rolled since the world began!
Millions have toiled for this with sufferings manifold.
This is the triumph of time—the god of the world is Gold!
Worship before his feet and kneel in his holy place,
For his altar is on the hearth and the rolling world is his throne!
With the throb of a votary’s pulse beats the heart of the human race,
From the lips of the child at play sounds the creed we have called our own.
Gather, O sons of men, but not like the men of old:
Savages worshipped honour—we have no god but Gold.
Gather, O sons of men! let us kneel at the sacred shrine.
Beauty was won by deeds—now it is bought and sold!
Justice was deemed of God—now it is scarce divine!
Honour dearer than life—what is honour to Gold?
O daughters, sisters, and wives! beauty was meant to sell!
Let us call the blessing of Heaven on the marriages made in Hell!
Over the marriage chime, and over the requiem’s sigh,
Into the peace of home enters the roar of the mart.
Barter whilst day be day, ere night, when no man may buy!
Nothing too high or low in a world of culture and art!
This is the crowning age, born of the centuries fled
Age of “Sweetness and Light”—now that the gods are dead!
Souls of the mighty dead who lived and died for the right,
Genius inspired of heaven to battle for human need—
These are the days of the dawn, the dawn of diviner light,
When the child at its mother’s breast is lisping the modern creed—
If haply thine eyes may gaze on the paths which thy feet have trod,
Behold, in a godless age, we have sought and found us a god!
Deep from a million throats rises the strain sublime—
“Justice is for the rich, patience is for the poor ;
Wealth is the only good, want is the only crime;
Beauty is for the old if but the price be sure.”
Deep in the whole world’s heart festers the cursèd creed.
Yea, though the gods be dead, we have found us a god indeed!
Better the clash of steel and the flag of battle unfurled!
Better the roar of guns and death for the future’s sake!
Than that the curse of Gold should canker the heart of the world.
Where is the voice of the leader? When will the people wake?
Nay! let us fold our hands! Madman, what fool would blight
The star of an age whose Christ is Moloch, the Ammonite?
Nay! for the day draws near when all shall not worship Gold!
Honour shall not be bought, wealth shall not make the man.
All have not turned away from the truths which were loved of old!
All have not toiled in vain since the toil of the world began!
All have not laid their souls at the feet of the idol red.
Some have remembered God—now that the gods are dead
poem by George Essex Evans
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Low point reached...message received
Low point reached
lesson taught
message received
morning after ego binge
one last remorseful purge
purifying words wash
shame residue from the skin
Rock bottom now
looking forward,
looking up
planning to layout
a new foundation
upon past ruins
A cosmic temple built for all
place for anyone to worship
infinite gods
naked eye gods
next door gods
workaday gods
everyday gods
needing to be reminded
of their own divinity.
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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A Land Gone Black
the sound of gunfire
rapes the virgin night...
another innocent goes down....
the soldiers of petroleum
buy a whore, a dime, a quarter.
dine on the flesh of children;
pray to the neon god.
waving the flags of mouths
that only speak with teeth.
nothing holy that cant be bought....
step on bodies without faces,
piss on the graves of babies....
winner take all, all is nothing!
and the wind of the beast
knocks at the blackened windows....
in the empty houses of the poor,
the worthless, the forgotten.
the sound of gunfire rips the stillness....
the gods of anger and self
fornicate in the stench,
keeping time to the rhythm
of oil rigs in a land gone black!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Gods And Monsters
Yearning, keep them burning, kepp them earning
Someones got to pay for all these televisions
There's children singing, and church bells ringing,
and people skipping merrily to work and dreaming
and dreaming
For maybe, you'll wind up crazy, and when you're drinking
You may start thinking that you're stupid and you're lazy
Well just keep earning, keep on yearning,
and you will believe there are no gods and monsters
gods and monsters
So free of contradictions, no dereliction,
There are no gods and monsters
So useless and so pretty and so good
So pretty and so good, gods and monsters
Now have I got you watching, for all the gods and monsters
A sitting, reclining in the back row of your mind
I think thats what you'll find
Yes there are gods and monsters
Yes there are gods and monsters
Yes there are gods and monsters
song performed by by I Am Kloot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let It Be Known, Let This Be Shown
I am wild
I am crazy
But to you
I am your lady
Let this be known
Let this be shown
I am more than meets the eye
Imp not gone sit back and let the world fly
My feelings for you will never die
Let this be known
Let this be shown
Momma didn't raise any fool
I might seem bad
But I follow the rules
Let this be known
Let this be shown
My body is not your toy
I want a man not a boy
I am a woman not a little girl
Let this be known
Let this be shown
poem by Raesheka Antwine
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In Gods eyes I will do no wrong
In Gods eyes I will do no wrong
You do not have the power to change me, you can never be that strong
You will never have the power to change me, in Gods eyes I will do no wrong
The pain you inflected, has not seeped into my soul, or dampened my spirit
The evil, and darkness, shown to me, so horrific, I wont forget it
Remember the voices you tried so hard to suppress
Their faces, not forgotten, in my memories they will rest
The meek will inherit the earth, and good will triumph over malevolent
I hold my head up high with the strength accompanying those which are innocent
To all those who have destroyed, the lives of people, villages, living under a foreign sky
I am not going to judge you, here is the reason why
You do not have the power to change me, you can never be that strong
You will never have the power to change me, in Gods eyes I will do no wrong
And god says judge not, lest you be judged!
Leandra Gebrakedan 2010 ©
poem by Leandra Gebrakedan
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From Theory To Pulse
Church of St Etienne du Mont, Paris
Because that force through green fuse drives all flowers
(which we would call the greater force, or God, or minor gods)
and gathers in a place like this — things gather, here and there —
then it’s a good place to come to sit a while, though
the first postulate of relativity, and I believe it, says to me
there’s no such thing as place. But here I am. It’s nice to sit a while.
Protect me, then, in the gathering up, in the going away.
The gargoyles do the warding off, the message gets projected
through the spires. That’s the theory. Sounds beautiful
to me. Okay. So you know nothing about anything
except what you recognise as instance, as kindred appearance.
Suffering, then. And then compassion. There are older agonies
than churches. You go home exhausted in the middle of the day.
Sunlight floods the apartment. The turtle dozes by the window,
more solemn than a thousand cats. You lie down,
place her on your chest. For two hours she stares at you
and feels your heart move her shell. Older agonies.
You are as little as you could be. Protect me — why?
No need. The turtle, mute, knows nothing too. That force
that through your black heart pumps conjoins the turtle here.
Of her own will she is still and yet at eighty-four beats per minute
you watch her body make that tiny jolt ten thousand and eighty times.
We’ll all be dead. And very soon. And yet unblackening is relief.
The diamond glint in the ancient eye. Small suffering joins
with the greater that of the ages of blood. Agonies of evolution
and beyond that, as always, geology. The lilac knows nothing of this.
poem by Luke Davies
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We Gather.....
i go to the place
where dead people pray...
i walk the stark streets,
struck dumb by poverty's tongue.
i follow voices into alleys
clothed in broken glass.
i lick the scars off buildings
where rats gather to dance.
ghosts never chant, 'i am black, i am white'...
they moan and simmer with calloused hands.
there are no heroes, no martys, no priests...
only the small boy in the doorstep,
with a broken kite.
who are we, who are we?
the sweat stained pelvis thrusts.
while armies gather to feed the crows.
and gods shatter into pulse and need,
orphans walk the womb lost without sight.
the heroin needle, the nuclear strike,
at the crossroads of hell,
just past the end of time.
we gather neath oil rigs
and lift unholy hands...
eating the flesh of our children,
in the name of god!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Many Gods
Gods are too many in one religion-
That is an asking of much distaste.
Gods are like religions of adjustment,
Lots of them would affect us in different ways.
Gods may produce laughter,
But Thor is no good with thunder.
Gods are not selling me objects,
Due to the weather and frame of mind.
I live with gods and goddesses
For I am a job to do with the highest ones.
poem by Naveed Akram
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