If It Is True What the Prophets Write
If it is true, what the Prophets write,
That the heathen gods are all stocks and stones,
Shall we, for the sake of being polite,
Feed them with the juice of our marrow-bones?
And if Bezaleel and Aholiab drew
What the finger of God pointed to their view,
Shall we suffer the Roman and Grecian rods
To compel us to worship them as gods?
They stole them from the temple of the Lord
And worshipp'd them that they might make inspirèd art abhorr'd;
The wood and stone were call'd the holy things,
And their sublime intent given to their kings.
All the atonements of Jehovah spurn'd,
And criminals to sacrifices turn'd.
poem by William Blake
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Psalm 135
Praise due to God, not to idols.
Awake, ye saints; to praise your King,
Your sweetest passions raise,
Your pious pleasure, while you sing,
Increasing with the praise.
Great is the Lord, and works unknown
Are his divine employ;
But still his saints are near his throne,
His treasure and his joy.
Heav'n, earth, and sea confess his hand;
He bids the vapors rise;
Lightning and storm at his command
Sweep through the sounding skies.
All power that gods or kings have claimed
Is found with him alone
But heathen gods should ne'er be named
Where our Jehovah's known.
Which of the stocks or stones they trust
Can give them showers of rain?
In vain they worship glitt'ring dust,
And pray to gold in vain.
[Their gods have tongues that cannot talk,
Such as their makers gave;
Their feet were ne'er designed to walk,
Nor hands have power to save.
Blind are their eyes, their ears are deaf,
Nor hear when mortals pray;
Mortals that wait for their relief
Are blind and deaf as they.]
O Britain, know thy living God,
Serve him with faith and fear;
He makes thy churches his abode,
And claims thine honors there.
poem by Isaac Watts
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If God Is Real
What religion is God does anyone know,
We worship so many as they all come and go,
New ones will appear every other day,
Are they right or wrong who is to say.
We have Christians and Muslims, Jehovah's and Jews,
Buddhists and Mormons there's Sikhs and Hindus,
There are thousands of others too numerous to mention,
What is it Gods have that attracts our attention.
Every religion will try to lay claim,
Their God is supreme, while the others are lame,
When they war with each other for each person they kill,
Be it sister or brother they'll claim it's Gods will.
How can they say this are these Gods raving mad,
To create mayhem and murder is really quite sad,
Genocide is something no God would allow,
Peace and forgiveness is what the Lord would endow.
The fact of the matter is are any of us right,
We really don't know as our God's out of sight,
Do they have a gender are they female or male,
Will we ever discover that Holy Grail.
What colour are these Gods who have us under their spell,
We all claim he / she's ours yet none of us can tell,
As God's never been seen how can we be sure,
Ours is the right one which one is pure.
We won't get to meet until the day we die,
Only then will we know if God's truth or a lie,
Faith from within is what will keep us strong,
If we stay honest and true we won't go far wrong.
Religion to some is their reason for living,
To abuse that trust is so unforgiving,
Gods don't need money so where does it go,
Funding lavish lifestyles for those in the know.
To some Gods an industry, money comes easy,
Using this to make cash is really quite queasy,
But the day will come when they'll meet their maker,
Their God will distinguish the real from the faker.
The problem with humans is where there's money to be made,
They'll use any avenue they don't care who's betrayed.
If you've abused Gods trust there will be no appeal,
When you expire you'll find out,
‘' If God Is Real ‘'
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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Art For Arts Sake
Gimme your body
Gimme your mind
Open your heart
Pull down the blind
Gimme your love gimme it all
Gimme in the kitchen gimme in the hall
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Gimme the readys
Gimme the cash
Gimme a bullet
Gimme a smash
Gimme a silver gimme a gold
Make it a million for when I get old
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Money talks so listen to it
Money talks to me
Anyone can understand it
Money cant be beat oh no
When you get down, down to the root
Dont give a damn dont give a hoot
Still gotta keep makin the loot
Chauffeur driven
Gotta make her quick as you can
Give her lovin make you a man
Get her in the palm of your hand
Bread from heaven
Gimme a country
Where I can be free
Dont need the unions
Strangling me
Keep me in exile the rest of my days
Burn me in hell but as long as it pays
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today... 'God of gods
All other gods are created by men
confined to the earth and not of heaven.
They have no power and are impotent.
But Jehovah God is omnipotent
He's the God of gods and the Lord of kings
and of His great glory all heaven sings.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
A Prayer unto Christ
The Judge Of The World
O Dearest Dread, most glorious King,
I'le of thy justest Judgements sing:
So thou my head and heart inspire,
To Sing aright, as I desire.
Thee, thee alone I'le invocate,
For I do much abominate
To call the Muses to mine aid:
Which is th' Unchristian use, and trade
Of some that Christians would be thought,
And yet they worship worse then nought.
Oh! what a deal of Blasphemy,
And Heathenish Impiety,
In Christian Poets may be found,
Where Heathen gods with praise are Crown'd,
They make Jehovah to stand by,
Till Juno, Venus, Mercury,
With frowning Mars, and thundering Jove
Rule Earth below, and Heaven above.
But I have learnt to pray to none,
Save unto God in Christ alone.
Nor will I laud, no, not in jest,
That which I know God doth detest.
I reckon it a damning evil
To give Gods Praises to the Devil.
Thou, Christ, art he to whom I pray,
Thy Glory fain I would display.
Oh! guide me by thy sacred Sprite
So to indite, and so to write,
That I thine holy Name may praise,
And teach the Sons of men thy wayes.
poem by Michael Wigglesworth
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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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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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Yhwh
In the language of liturgy,
In the transilation of the Roman Missal;
The Bible reflects the Hebrew traditions but,
Many have missed the four-letter tetragrammaton YHWH.
Of the Scriptual Texts,
Of the prayers of the faithful;
Why sit ontop of the four pagan gods?
Many gods and many lords,
From Constantine's point of view;
But in the confused system of fragmented dogmas,
What can i say to you now?
Osius of Cordoba,
Of mules and horses to stay alive;
Like the names of 53 gods tabled for discussion.
Heathen customs,
They are much more than ignorance or honour;
But, have we learnt enough from the consolation of 'Jah'?
YHWH is the tetragrammaton forgotten so soon.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Dacian's prayer [Rugăciunea unui dac]
When there was neither death, nor immortality,
Nor seed of light to give life and fertility,
Nor yesterday, today, tomorrow and for ever,
For one was everything and all were one together;
When earth and sky and air and all this world profound
Were things that until then had never been around,
Back then, was only You, and in my mind I wonder,
Who is the God we worship, who makes us hear the thunder?
He is the God that stood before all gods in dark
And from the boundless waters produced a little spark,
He gives the gods their souls, makes happy His creation
He is for all the people a fountain of salvation
Cheer up and praise the Lord! Forget about your strife,
He is the death of death and is the life of life!
And He gave me the eyes to see the shining light
And mercifully filled my heart with pure delight
In roaring winds I've heard His footsteps all the time
And in a sublime song I've felt His holy rhyme,
But beside all these things, I still have a request,
To let me find at last His sweet eternal rest!
To curse the man who wants to soothe my awful pain
To bless the one who always oppresses me in vain,
To listen any mouth that shouts at me with strife,
To strengthen any arm that wants to take my life
And let that guy to be the best and walk ahead
Who comes to steal the stone on which I lay my head!
Rejected by the people, I'll roam through all my years
Until I feel my eyes devoid of any tears,
For every man will be my bitter foe from birth,
That's why I cannot judge or measure my own worth;
The pain and the ordeal have chilled my heart severely,
That I can curse my mother, whom I have loved so dearly –
But when my hate will fade and love will take its place
I might forget my pain and leave this life with grace.
And if I die an outlaw who wanted to be free,
Let them throw out my body to rot under a tree
And offer, God, a crown with many precious stones
To him who'll bring the dogs to eat my heart and bones.
And give eternal life to those who slap my face,
Who throw at me with stones and sink me in disgrace!
And only then, my Father, I'll thank you on my knees,
Because You gave me power to go through life with ease
I shall not beg for mercy or bend my head and cry
To curses, spite and evil I want to turn Your eye,
To feel Your holy breath upon my mortal face,
To die and rest in peace and leave behind no trace!
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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Poem about Poetry - An Eastern Ballad
i long to be an eastern poet
to write about the Great wall
wean stories from every tearstained stone
that still echoes the cries of those
missing homes, wives and children
walk its length to measure the cold
and forlorn monolith borne from the
heart of stones of Shih piled high
over hills and mountains
i long to be an eastern poet
to write about the legion of
gods and goddesses in the nook
and corner on the pantheons
of the the temples of india
those alluring and well endowed
gods and goddesses who stole from
heavens to teach about salvation
senseless senses, seeds of bondage
this world a dungeon of pain, a realm
nobody should come back to except the gods
to help man metamophosise from a bundle of senses
to om consciousness, nirvana
i would love to meet Moses
to talk about the Almighty God
his little brush with death and Salvation
on the swift Nile that still oozes with the tears
of mom who lost only son to the Pharoah's princess
the river that gave him his name
his lovelorn days in the gardens of the Palace
and the parting of the Red Sea that drew a line
between the people of God and the Idols
and whether he fell in love with what he saw there (the gardens)
a world away from the madness of the world
and the secrets he culled from the Highest One
about life, death, heavens and hell that help
us wade through the sea of ignorance to enlightenment
I would love to live with the tribes, wild men
of the South seas, learn about their hungry gods and sacrifices
perhaps then i could tell good from evil,
the gods from the devils and the truth from the lies
or perhaps live a life free from the One up there
recognising man's unreadiness, unworthiness for him yet
take and love people from that corner of the heart
that we all possess, starting from the Almighty's simplest lesson
a real eastern ballad i long to sing to the world
inspired by
An Eastern Ballad
I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.
I never dreamed the sea so deep,
The earth so dark; so long my sleep,
I have become another child.
I wake to see the world go wild.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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O Precious Lord
Oh precious Lord I call on you
Call upon your Holy name
Oh precious Lord send your Spirit now
Come and light your Holy flame
Oh precious Lord in times of need
When there's no-one else around
Oh precious Lord it seems like your not there
And there's no help to be found
Oh precious Lord, will I never learn
Whether hills or depths of seas
That I will always find you Lord
When I get upon my knees
Oh precious Lord, I call on you
And exalt your Holy name
I praise you Lord and I worship you
And I praise your Holy flame
Oh precious Lord, I call on you
Call upon your Holy name
Yesterday, today, and forever Lord
You will always be the same
poem by Frank McEleny
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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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Psalm 97 part 2
v.6-9
L. M.
Christ's incarnation.
The Lord is come; the heav'ns proclaim
His birth; the nations learn his name;
An unknown star directs the road
Of eastern sages to their God.
All ye bright armies of the skies,
Go, worship where the Savior lies;
Angels and kings before him bow,
Those gods on high and gods below.
Let idols totter to the ground,
And their own worshippers confound
But Judah shout, but Zion sing,
And earth confess her sovereign King.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Shall gods be said to thump the clouds
Shall gods be said to thump the clouds
When clouds are cursed by thunder,
Be said to weep when weather howls?
Shall rainbows be their tunics' colour?
When it is rain where are the gods?
Shall it be said they sprinkle water
From garden cans, or free the floods?
Shall it be said that, venuswise,
An old god's dugs are pressed and pricked,
The wet night scolds me like a nurse?
It shall be said that gods are stone.
Shall a dropped stone drum on the ground,
Flung gravel chime? Let the stones speak
With tongues that talk all tongues.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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Beyond The Temple ('78 Demo)
Beyond the temple
There lies a tomb with a king from long ago
A traveler from a distant planet
Ten thousand years or so
The legend tells of an agin' man
Whose city he built alone
Till the pirates of our western world
Tore it down stone by stone
The clouds are gettin' heavy
As he points unto the sky
But with the guidance of his finger
He let the lightning fly
So don't turn around, don't turn around
Lightning don't strike twice
Don't turn around, don't turn around
Death is a very high price
He gathered up his people
And he took them underground
To the caves of silvery water
Where they never could be found
The king came to the surface
Could not believe what he had found
The temple left in ruins
His city knocked to the ground
He went back to his people
Sad news he had to tell
The only justice for the king
Was to put these men in hell
So don't turn around, don't turn around
Lightning don't strike twice
Don't turn around, don't turn around
Death is a very high price
His face showing sorrow
His heart full of grief
His life's work in ruins
Destroyed by a thief
His people just sit around
His children just cry
The king's mind is all confused
Just wonderin' why
The temple split in half
And scattered through the desert
The dust had risen in the air
The race of people had to live in devastation
Why wasn't he even there?
Message from the gods to gather up his people
The kingdom couldn't lose them there
That's when all the gods and all are livin' peaceful
Just a galaxy away
The king rose up from underground
To light the darkened sky
Red lights, green lights, blue lights flashing
It seemed a mile high
As it lifted from the ground
And soared into the air
The king looked at what might have been
A world that needed care
A storm had risen quickly
Across the take of hope
Now there's no trace of the king
Just a memory carved in stone
So don't turn around, don't turn around
Lightning don't strike twice
Don't turn around, don't turn around
Death is a very high price
Don't turn around, don't turn around
Lightning don't strike twice
Don't turn around, don't turn around
Death is a very high price
song performed by by Def Leppard
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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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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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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During my life I have seen, known, and lost too much to be the prey of vain dread; and, as for the hope of immortality, I am as weary of that as I am of gods and kings. For my own sake only I write this; and herein I differ from all other writers, past and to come.
quote by Mika Waltari
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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