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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Related quotes
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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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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Sky and Moon
I see the sky and moon in the bright night,
Inside I see and hear them crawl both toward us,
Thus, our moons are complete and the azure sky also
As it forms for our privilege of seeing and gazing at noon.
The noon is apt to wander into night before anything happens,
But this black ocean will stop at the stone feet of mountains,
Huge volcanoes that burst in the night and day,
Forever in this way, jolting our brains with their thunder and night-laughter.
Many gods and goddesses are against us now,
Immediately we lift our eyes to the clear sky
As named by the gods, as called by the priests.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Ghosts
The ghosts of not repentant souls
Wander in the quiet woods night.
Only chilling cries of the owls
Cause the lightest fright.
Flying Dutchman frightens seamen,
Its sight is a portent of doom.
It was told by John Leyden
Sinful souls went to gloom.
Ghosts dwell in the hills.
Climbers know a ghost can kill.
To some they help to cross the river,
But seeing them you would shiver.
Haunting cities, haunting countries…
Are they humans eye illusion?
Are they really verities?
It looks they come to make pollution.
Ghosts are here, ghosts are there!
It seems they are everywhere.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 8th of August,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Next Day
One day shall be the next day,
This day shines utmost due to time’s fright.
A religion of light is an approach to a stigma
Always in right, for the real right is above us.
Faith mounts up and collides with balls of fire,
You in the end do not burn, nor do you melt.
Faith on this night is like fire,
Do not prostrate before the gods of fire.
One day they meet the head of gods,
A real plan is about to deliver praise of the next day.
poem by Naveed Akram
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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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The Old Gods.
O ye gods, if you could tell us
What ye are — if banned or blest —
Ye that reigned of old in Hellas!
Ye that ruled the radiant West!
Old-born gods! The Past still flashes
In the eyes of Greece and Rome;
Ye are not mere dust and ashes
Urned for all the years to come.
Ye that ruled in heavenly places,
And the faith of mortals won!
Gods created by old races
Perished from beneath the sun;
Born of faith, and with it blended,
Ye shall yet the world inspire
Till the last breath has ascended
From the latest altar fire.
All the hopes and invocations
Breathed by lips of heroes dead,
All the genius of the nations
Who the march of Freedom led —
Though your temples broke and fell as
Dusty fanes of little worth —
These will keep you, gods of Hellas!
Still alive upon the earth.
poem by Robert Crawford
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You don't even exist...
Sharpen up your blunt canines
Summon up the lost souls
Call your gods to tackle me
'cause you have no existance
Lo! under the veil of lion-skin
there stands some beast
some beast of burden...
Serve your gods to tackle me
'cause you have no existance
Silence is the best answer
And you had some questions
You answered them quite well
Backstabbing is not the silence
Find your gods to tackle me
'cause you have no existance
You fear the wind; i'm the wind
You breathe in me, spit on me
But you couldn't catch me
And i've caught you red-handed
Kneel to your gods to tackle me
'cause you have no existance
My pride's my life, you attack it
You aint've pride, you're proud
Torment your gods to tackle me
'cause you have no existance
To me, you're zero existance
nor your gods bother me
You know the pain, you know it
To inflict pain, you need rebirth
Sing your elegy, write your wish
resurrect your dead soul
Resurrect your gods to tackle me
'cause you have no existance...
26-03-2006
poem by Usman Hanif
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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 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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Gods and Kings
Gods and kings have collided, again
The sandwich is stolen by the higher gods
And then vendors will be fancied
Who steal and marry, who reach royalty.
The gods and goddesses will dispute
On their offspring, on their religion,
And on the schedule of a blessed creation
That came with vibrancy and laugh.
Gods and kings will never omit queenhood,
As she who worked hard shall reap rewards
Of a higher nature. Their progeny shall be exalted
From the lap of the sea, from the conquest of the moon.
I confer with the gods, and I have direct knowledge
Of all of it. Of each and every word that fits.
My role has surpassed miracles, yet I am no god or single deity
Let alone a higher one.
Higher men and women come from up above,
Not inside a soul or special blood.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Storm
Stormy weather
this time of year
in Kuala Lumpur
it always comes
in the late afternoon
it sounds like gods
are moving houses
the heart thumping thunder
several years ago
the rain even pulled
down a high rise building
on the hillslope
this time it sounds like
the gods are nailing down
some deviant angels
and they try real hard
to get them down
the heart thumping thunder
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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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The Gods We Become?
we kill...
'holy' hands forming gods
out of our paper bag hungers,
in the image of our fears.
we sacrifice blood,
in the name of redemption.
and the ghosts of the innocents
burn our thoughts and our eyes.
what kind of father
teaches his children
to kill each other?
are we bastards, or liars,
afraid of our sins?
even the earth we defile,
cries against us in anguish.
the morality we buy and sell,
is bitter to the taste.
the voice of the eternal,
lost in the din and the madness.
leaving only the tug of the wind,
the cries of small children
the whimper of stray dogs.
words written in charcoal,
on forever grey skies...
'i have come to you,
again and again,
in countless forms,
speaking your own languages,
wearing your own skin...
why have you forgotten me?
and who do you follow? '
the voice behind gods,
or the gods we become?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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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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Cyber Gods
In the dead of the night
After minimal thought
Your wheel chair rolling
To the very same spot
Electricity power
All the fuel you need
And in front of the rays
Doing your damn solo things
Under the invisible hand
Of an artificial mom
Under the ferocious stand
Of a superficial god
And the night has come
And the cyber gods attack
And the night is lost
With the cyber gods
After serious time
Of a visional search
You detect in the flashing
The “messiah” church
She is here for your joy
And of thousands more
Gift of hyper realms
Goddess of the hardcore
Under the invisible hand
Of an artificial mom
Under the ferocious stand
Of a superficial god
And the night has come
And the cyber gods attack
And the night is lost
With the cyber gods
When the ritual is finished
And you are ready to go
With your head to the ground
As in always before
Giving thanks to an item
Giving curse to your soul
You wish you embraced
Of a truly living god
And the night has come
And the cyber gods attack
And the night is lost
With the cyber gods
poem by Chris Terzis
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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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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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The Trial of the Gods
NEVER nobler was the Senate,
Never grander the debate:
Rome's old gods are on their trial
By the judges of the state!
Torn by warring creeds, the Fathers
Urge to-day the question home—
'Whether Jupiter or Jesus
Shall be God henceforth in Rome?'
Lo, the scene! In Jove's own temple,
As of old, the Fathers meet;
Through the porch, to hear the speeches,
Press the people from the street.
Pontiffs, rich with purple vesture,
Pass from senate chair to chair;
Learned augurs, still as statues—
Voiceless statues, too—are there;
Vestal virgins, white with terror,
Mutely asking—what has come?
What new light shall turn to darkness
Vesta's holy fire in Rome?
Answer, Quindecemvirs! Surely,
Of this wondrous Nazarene
Ye must know, who keep the secrets
Of the prophet Sibylline?
Nay, no word! Here stand the Flamens:
Have ye read the omens, priests?
Slain the victims, white and sable,
Scanned the entrails of the beast?
Priest of Pallas, see! the people
Ask for oracles to-day:
Silent! Priests of Mars and Venus?
Lo, they turn, dumb-lipped, away!
Priest of Jove? Flamen dialis!
Here in Jove's own temple meet
In debate the Roman Senate,
And Jove's priest with timid feet
Stands beyond the altar railing!
Gods, I feel ye frown above!
In the shadow of Jove's altar
Men defy the might of Jove!
Treason riots in the temple
At the sacrilege profound:
Virgins mocked, and augurs banished,
And divinities discrowned!
Hush! Old Rome herself appeareth,
Pleading for the ancient faith:
Urging all her by-gone glory—
That to change the old were death.
Rudely answer the patricians,
Scoffing at the time-worn snare:
Twice a thousand years of sacrifice
Have melted into air;
Twice a thousand years of worship
Have bitterly sufficed
To prove there is no Jupiter!
The Senate votes for Christ!
Not aimless is the story,
The moral not remote:
For still the gods are questioned,
And still the Senates vote.
Men sacrifice to Venus;
To Mars are victims led;
And Mercury is honored still;
And Bacchus is not dead;—
But these are minor deities
That cling to human sight:
Our twilight they—but Right and Wrong
Are clear as day and night.
We know the Truth: but falsehood
With our lives is so inwove—
Our Senates vote down Jesus
As old Rome degraded Jove!
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Sold Years
In those acutely native-days;
when lioness where lion, and the birth of death; was rare.
Days; when people fainted in shock, and wept bitterly, when one says; they are now born again Christians.
Because they always thought the person was dead.
Days, when men worked and walked with overdosed ego.
People loved like there was no tomorrow,
and animals moved, with pampered elegance.
But tradition, cried with oversized echo;
for men, twisted the gods appetites,
and came up with malodorous ideas, which where not of the gods; but theirs.
This made the gods roar in their wooden-visions with wooden rages.
People loved the gods so much; that they heed to all the unjust heavy duty rituals, assigned to them.
Just to appease the iron and wooden ego of the gods.
They sobered endlessly; for they where helplessly buried with their kings, gods and chief-priests.
But they remained harmless, for they could not question or fight the gods.
Darkness fell on the smooth skin of the moon; and gave it heat-rash and chickenpox.
Because fathers; sold wives, kids, brothers and extended families.
While friends; sold friends, fathers, mothers and passerby.
And the chief-priest's; sold the gods.
The colour of our voices, and the strength of our culture; where the fire-lights, they used to tow us away, through the rainbow of pain, toad roads, and blood-bushes, which where blessed with odd faces and thirsty hasty white and black masquerades.
Yes!
It was Africa's blood, it took to grow and cleanse the anger of world.
O my Africa,
although, it runs on half blood and a tin of snuff.
But with pure affection;
it is still so elongated in wisdom, beauty and it wears high-heels, to exhibit how tall she really is; in simplicity and power.
poem by King Femi Oloidi
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