Be Glad The Gods Know What Is Good For You
you made a pilgrimage to the mountains
climbed the steep hills and crossed the ten rivers
you sailed the five seas and walked the three continents
you are praying for the fulfillment of a wish
for a dream to come true
and you whisper it to the ears of the gods
offering food and flowers
lighting scented candles and letting the smokes from the incenses
spread to the heavens
as you bow your head and prostrate on your legs
and make your chants
in humble worship
the gods did not grant what you were asking
they all said no and you asked for a reconsideration
they all denied your motion
it was given to someone else and you wish you were dead
lightning hit the man you envied and thunder sounded like happy drums
the man to which your wish was granted is now dead.
be glad for the gods know what is good for you
when they denied it, they said it is not meant for you
and they never wanted you dead that early in his bed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
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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If There's A True God
If there's a true God that true God must be kinder
Than the Gods the billions kneel to for to pray
The selfish Gods that men do go to war for
And invade Countries from their own Homeshores far away.
If there's a God that God does not live out there
Your true God is your God who lives within
And if your God within is not philanthropic
Then you are one who is vulnerable to sin.
If there's a true God that God is not divisive
With the followers of other Gods he would not want us to fight
Your true God would not want you to others to feel superior
Or you to be looked on as a lesser light.
If there's a true God that God does have compassion
And that God believes in human equality
But sad to say the Gods many do worship
Are Gods who do seem to crave an enemy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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 Gods Are Dead
The gods are dead? Perhaps they are! Who knows?
Living at least in Lempriere undeleted,
The wise, the fair, the awful, the jocose,
Are one and all. I like to think, retreated
In some still land of lilacs and the rose.
Once high they sat, and high o’er earthly shows
With sacrificial dance and song were greeted.
Once… long ago. But now, the story goes,
The gods are dead.
It must be true. The world, a world of prose,
Full-crammed with facts, in science swathed and sheeted,
Nods in a stertorous after-dinner doze!
Plangent and sad, in every wind that blows
Who will may hear the sorry words repeated: –
‘The Gods are Dead!’
poem by William Ernest Henley
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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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Outlaws
Owls: they whinney down the night,
Bats go zigzag by.
Ambushed in shadow out of sight
The outlaws lie.
Old gods, shrunk to shadows, there
In the wet woods they lurk,
Greedy of human stuff to snare
In webs of murk.
Look up, else your eye must drown
In a moving sea of black
Between the tree-tops, upside down
Goes the sky-track.
Look up, else your feet will stray
Towards that dim ambuscade,
Where spider-like they catch their prey
In nets of shade.
For though creeds whirl away in dust,
Faith fails and men forget,
These aged gods of fright and lust
Cling to life yet.
Old gods almost dead, malign,
Starved of their ancient dues,
Incense and fruit, fire, blood and wine
And an unclean muse.
Banished to woods and a sickly moon,
Shrunk to mere bogey things,
Who spoke with thunder once at noon
To prostrate kings.
With thunder from an open sky
To peasant, tyrant, priest,
Bowing in fear with a dazzled eye
Towards the East.
Proud gods, humbled, sunk so low,
Living with ghosts and ghouls,
And ghosts of ghosts and last year's snow
And dead toadstools.
poem by Robert Graves
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The Gods Made Heavy Metal
In the beginning there was silence and darkness
All across the earth
Then came the wind and a hole in the sky
Thunder and lightning came crashing down
Hit the earth and split the ground
Fire burned high in the sky
From down below fire melted the stone
The ground shook and started to pound
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
We are the true believers
It's our turn to show the world
In the fire of heavy metal we were burned
It's more than our religion it's the only way to live
But the enemies of metal we can't forgive
Cause we believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
We believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
We're here tonight for heavy metal are you ready in the hall
They have chosen us and we have heard the call
Gonna tear the roof off with our sound
Crack the walls and shake the ground
Fight tonight for metal one and all
Cause we believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
song performed by by Manowar from Louder Than Hell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rainbow
Watch the white dawn gleam,
To the thunder of hidden guns.
I hear the hot shells scream
Through skies as sweet as a dream
Where the silver dawn-break runs.
And stabbing of light
Scorches the virginal white.
But I feel in my being the old, high, sanctified thrill,
And I thank the gods that the dawn is beautiful still.
From death that hurtles by
I crouch in the trench day-long,
But up to a cloudless sky
From the ground where our dead men lie
A brown lark soars in song.
Through the tortured air,
Rent by the shrapnel's flare,
Over the troubleless dead he carols his fill,
And I thank the gods that the birds are beautiful still.
Where the parapet is low
And level with the eye
Poppies and cornflowers glow
And the corn sways to and fro
In a pattern against the sky.
The gold stalks hide
Bodies of men who died
Charging at dawn through the dew to be killed or to kill.
I thank the gods that the flowers are beautiful still.
When night falls dark we creep
In silence to our dead.
We dig a few feet deep
And leave them there to sleep -
But blood at night is red,
Yea, even at night,
And a dead man's face is white.
And I dry my hands, that are also trained to kill,
And I look at the stars - for the stars are beautiful still.
poem by Leslie Coulson
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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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Gods of animals
If asses made gods
Gods would be in the form an ass.
Animals have no reverence to human gods,
But man has made animal gods.
16.03.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf X. -- Raud The Strong
'All the old gods are dead,
All the wild warlocks fled;
But the White Christ lives and reigns,
And throughout my wide domains
His Gospel shall be spread!'
On the Evangelists
Thus swore King Olaf.
But still in dreams of the night
Beheld he the crimson light,
And heard the voice that defied
Him who was crucified,
And challenged him to the fight.
To Sigurd the Bishop
King Olaf confessed it.
And Sigurd the Bishop said,
'The old gods are not dead,
For the great Thor still reigns,
And among the Jarls and Thanes
The old witchcraft still is spread.'
Thus to King Olaf
Said Sigurd the Bishop.
'Far north in the Salten Fiord,
By rapine, fire, and sword,
Lives the Viking, Raud the Strong;
All the Godoe Isles belong
To him and his heathen horde.'
Thus went on speaking
Sigurd the Bishop.
'A warlock, a wizard is he,
And lord of the wind and the sea;
And whichever way he sails,
He has ever favoring gales,
By his craft in sorcery.'
Here the sign of the cross
Made devoutly King Olaf.
'With rites that we both abhor,
He worships Odin and Thor;
So it cannot yet be said,
That all the old gods are dead,
And the warlocks are no more,'
Flushing with anger
Said Sigurd the Bishop.
Then King Olaf cried aloud:
'I will talk with this mighty Raud,
And along the Salten Fiord
Preach the Gospel with my sword,
Or be brought back in my shroud!'
So northward from Drontheim
Sailed King Olaf!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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M an is dead
Netzche discovered that God is dead
Hence gods were to be discovered
in nationalism socialism democracy and so on
Whose imagination did create so many gods?
Man's.
No particular man but Man who is perhaps in every man and woman
Or who is an agglomeration of men
The thousand headed Man with thousand eyes and thousand legs
So when god was found dead
Man became the god of gods
Man the god or human ism was born
But whatever is born is foredoomed to die
And Foucault thundered-Man or Humanism is born to die
He was a great prophet
Pantaloons and other modern markets came forward
with their mazarine music of trade cries
Their teeth are well arranged in the consumers goods
arrayed in different air conditioned shops in the same built space
They ate the humanity of every man
And see the dead humanity's apparels- you he and me
me he and you
are being worn by the system of consumers goods
a television a refrigerator a car a computer
a booking with a five star hotel at Angkor Vat
Dont ask whether the motor cycle has any use value at all.
Ask yourself whether you know how to caress the bike
the way a mother used to take care of a child in olden times
Man still lingers in appearance
But consumer goods as a system has donned this appearance
presently after it was declared that God is dead
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Retrieved Poetry
Poetry is dead,
Some would say.
But the inspiration that befell the poet,
But the gods that cursed the poet
Would never allow him grow weary.
It keeps pouring out like morning dew
From sundown to cock crow.
Poetry is dead,
Some would say.
Those would get paid
That wishes it out of this world.
Judgement day, the pay day, even today
,
Memories linger of what the gods inspired.
Only poetry has survived a worldwide flood.
Poetry is dead,
Some have said.
But the inspiration keeps coming,
But the memory keeps living.
Poetry lives on even when the world is dead;
It dies only if it is not poetry
And there is only a good few poetry.
Poetry is dead,
Some have said.
Until we start seeing poetry as poetry
And nothing more, until that day,
Until we start thinking he is inspired,
Until we stop thinking for the poet;
He is possessed he is innocent.
Poetry is dead,
So goes the argument.
Even as we cut from the same tree,
Even as we speak same universal language,
You cannot cut deep if your axe's blunt.
We can never speak from same mouth.
You can only say your own thought.
Poetry is dead,
So goes the argument,
If poetry is dead killed by death,
If poetry is dead swallowed by death,
The corpse should be in our front.
We should know how to bury it.
We should dig not cover it with dust.
Poetry is dead,
If poetry is really dead,
There is cause to weep bitterly,
There is cause to think deeply
For the world has been stripped naked.
For poetry is great, ageless, timeless, bottomless
At the burial we must remain emotionless.
poem by Chime Justice Ndubuisi
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Ortygia
IN Ortygia the Dawn land the old gods dwell,
And the silver’s yet a-quiver on the old wizard well
By the milk-white walls of the Temple of the Moon,
Where the Dawn Maids hallow the red gods’ tune,
And old grey Time is a nine-year child,
Back between the rivers ere man was ever ’guiled,
Or the knelling ‘Never, never!’ by the cherubim was rung.
It was there, there, there, in Ortygia the young,—
It was there, there, there, in the meadows of the sky
That first we went a-summering, my love of loves and I.
And well I wot the pleasaunce for them that thither go
Is litten with the beacons that the Dawn Maids know,
With their vigil at end in the Temple of the Moon,
And their prayer all prayer for the waked world’s boon.
The words they speak in that land are new as the dawn;
The rills that run in that land are diamond, drawn
From the old wizard well where the red gods croon.
And walk you in Ortygia or late or soon,
It is but lovers only that ever you will see;
For every silver wood-king’s a trysting tree,
And the dream-flowers are keeping their first high May
For the glad and the glamoured who walk yon way;
And to the summit etherous the track you cannot miss,
Though the hills are dim and sheeny with the rainbow’s kiss.
O, we walked the road of iris, my love of loves and I
In Ortygia the young with the red gods by!
poem by Jessie Mackay
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Gods
The ivory gods,
And the ebony gods,
And the gods of diamond and jade,
Sit silently on their temple shelves
While the people
Are afraid.
Yet the ivory gods,
And the ebony gods,
And the gods of diamond-jade,
Are only silly puppet gods
That the people themselves
Have made.
poem by Langston Hughes
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After The 3,000 Cranes
after the 3,000 cranes
religiously made, day and night
as promised by the gods
my cheek turns pink this day
and now i am into my 4,000th poem
i am praying to my gods of poetry
to energize my nerves to make
this body move, to make me whole
again, so i may learn the true
meaning of my poems about
faith, love, and hope.
let me begin first with hope.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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Gods of the East
Because I sought it far from men,
In deserts and alone,
I found it burning overhead,
The jewel of a Throne.
Because I sought--I sought it so
And spent my days to find--
It blazed one moment ere it left
The blacker night behind.
We be the Gods of the East--
Older than all--
Masters of Mourning and Feast--
How shall we fall?
* * * * *
This I saw when the rites were done,
And the lamps were dead and the Gods alone,
And the grey snake coiled on the altar stone--
Ere I fled from a Fear that I could not see,
And the Gods of the East made mouths at me.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Hung My Head
Early one morning with time to kill
I borrowed jebs rifle and sat on the hill
I saw a lone rider crossing the plain
I drew a bread on him to practice my aim
My brothers rifle went off in my hand
A shot rang out across the land
The horse he kept running, the rider was dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
I set off running to wake from the dream
And my brothers rifle went into the stream
I kept on running into the salt lands
And thats where they found me, my head in my hands
The sheriff he asked me why had I run
Then it came to me just what I had done
And all for no reason, just one piece of lead
I hung my head, I hung my head
Here in the courthouse, the whole town is there
I see the judge high up in his chair
Explain to the courtroom what went through your mind
And well ask the jury what verdict they find
I said I felt the power of death over life
I orphaned his children, I widowed his wife
I beg their forgiveness, I wish I was dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
Early one morning with time to kill
I see the gallows up on the hill
And out in the distance a trick of the brain
I see a lone rider crossing the plain
Hes come to fetch me to see what they done
Well ride together til kingdom come
I pray for gods mercy for soon Ill be dead
I hung my head, I hung my head
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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