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FIVE THOUSAND DEAD GODS
No god I know is still alive -
all five thousand and seven
appear to have died.
The great god Huitzilopochtli
led the Aztecs' divine pack -
but He departed awhile back.
Zeus was fun, and had His run,
but while disguised as a swan,
they say, His neck got wrung.
Pluto - God of the Underworld,
offended the ladies of Hades,
and got buried in his own Hell.
Thor, I'm told, was big and bold,
but going out without a cloak,
they say, He died of the cold.
And ghosts of dead Indian gods
can't even haunt a decent tepee,
and many die on late night T.V.
No prisoners tremble on the altar
when their beating hearts are torn
to join Tezcatlipoca in the sky.
And no children scream as they
are loaded onto the simple machine
that feeds them to Moloch's fire.
And for ancient Greece's Dionysus,
no drums sound, no flute plays -
but, oh, weren't those the days!
The goddesses, too, we must include,
for all were dear to some, and lived
in our hearts until the time had come.
There was Athena , Gaia, and Kore,
Xochiquetzal, Minerva, and Astarte,
Ixtab, Kuan Yin, and Kali of course.
Five thousand gods and goddesses -
maybe ten or a hundred fifty thousand
or more, there might have been.
But the goddesses and gods have all
gone, one by one, until there are none
but those that are still willed alive.
- Gods and goddesses kept alive
by people still believing - still
trusting - in their own creations.
Pinocchio becomes god of the wood,
while Pygmalion falls on his knees
before his goddess of stone, Galatea.
We remember the Loving Mother
and the Father the All-Mighty
looming large in an infant's eyes.
For each girl-woman makes the God
she craves and needs - then kneels
before Him and says, "Oh, please!"
And each boy-man makes himself
a Goddess that he wishes,
giving a Mother's hugs and kisses.
And older men and women tend
to make our gods with
wrinkled brow and constant pout.
Still we always make our gods
to look a lot like me and you -
one head, one mouth, two eyes.
But the god of songbirds flies,
and the gods of all the fishes
must swim through ocean skies.
The god of cattle may be a bull,
or just maybe it's a cow -
I can't hope to settle that now.
But I am well informed by
one who ought to know:
the god of dogs is a bitch!
God laughs? Not on your life!
The joke's on us - but I'm told
She's heard this joke before!
This poem is from
"Prayers to a Dead God: 125 Poems,"
published in January of 2001 by North American
International, and available from online book sellers.
THE CRY
by Michael Pain
Here I am,
doubting your existence, questioning your omnipotence.
To you they plead their case,
to all you refuse to show your face,
in the eyes of the believers, the congregation,
I am condemned to hell, deserved damnation.
Because I choose to think freely,
because I do not listen to the cries of the holy man.
Test o' Fires Placing Satan in their handbags they go 'a knocking on doors where they're least expected to trade the here-and-now for everlasting obscurity. All for a Book filled with the occult, murderous intentions, and twisted realities where truth is falsehood and falsehood is gospel and a simple question merits the death penalty. With the pitter-patter of tiny feet they approach with learned stealth caring for nothing but the opium high of testifying. Overjoyed by rejection yet bewildered by disbelief their prayer orgies strafe the ethers in long arches of arrogance. "We have the truth!" they proclaim boldly as legion more proclaim a differing story. I read their Book filled with insanity, conflict, and unnumbered depravities then look into their junkie eyes. Nothing that I say can appease the Beast lurking behind the message with peace on the lips and dripping evil on the tongue. Quickly closing the door on the message of death disguised in goodness, a sigh of relief passes my lips. The wolves of the forest have been kept at bay for ,at least, one more day.
by Kim Cole
Can you hear the bells?
Can you hear the bells?
Can you hear them calling?
Listen to the bells
Listen to the bells
Look, the boundary's falling
I can smell the trees
All so bright and green
I can see the lights
Twinkle in the night.
I can feel the joy
In the girls and boys
I can see the hope
In the smiling folk
Can you hear the bells?
Can you hear the bells?
Can you hear them calling?
Listen to the bells
Listen to the bells
Look, the boundary's falling
It's the time of year
To feel winter cheer
All mankind is one
All daughters and sons
We should remember
Not just December
Believer or non
All of us are one.
THE LIES THAT LIE
I see the hate and fear in your eyes
If only you would take a look and realize the lies that lie behind your eyes.
the holder of the scripture is the breeder of hate.
He fills you with the misinformation, falsification And fabrication.
you take the bait.
The hate spreads lIke a virus.
A neurological disease
I am now a demon to the world.
If only you would take A look and realize the lies that lie behind your faithful eyes.
By Kim Shultz
No sticks and stones have touched my bones,
But words indeed have hurt me.
The taunts and jibes from Smith and Jones,
And those who would convert me.
Whisper the fiery wrath of hell,
And then speak of love sublime.
And how long would it take to tell
How those two things can combine?
Tell me my thought, my will is free
And then say I must obey.
Explain about eternity,
Which I must choose day by day.
The reasoning behind your speech
Is what I am questioning.
I don't deny the faith you preach,
Only the truth of the thing.
Faith is something I cannot share
Although I know I have tried.
But so long as logic is there,
Anything else would be a lie.
An Untrustworthy God
Because I choose not to obey,
To words spoken in metaphors,
Left too open to interpretation,
I am warned of condemnation.
I never sought to make sense,
Of these symbols left to chance,
I will be my own creation,
The results of my own conclusion.
I am deemed self-important,
Egotistical and arrogant,
I am told I believe in lies,
As they plead to me with their cries,
And their age-old rethoric,
That leave my insides twisted and sick,
On how they simply came to offer,
These truths they hold to make life better.
There is strength in their numbers,
Their many prophets of terror,
Who seek to control the mind,
Of any weakened soul they can find,
To slowly mold the inner being,
Into this great ideal they have foreseen,
They dismiss other paths at first glance,
As they speak of their holy tolerance.
Chorus:
My decadence fabricated,
My evil deeds isolated,
My path of evil promoted,
My soul corrupted,
They speak words in disguise,
Hoping quietly for my demise,
As they burn me with angry eyes,
Here an untrustworthy god lies!
I have seen their god so sacred,
These stunning images they provided,
On prime time for mass consumption,
Through our modern tool of corruption,
I hear their speech on equality,
And their stance on one world, one family,
Yet to move towards the proper destiny,
On truth, they claim to hold a monopoly.
They shout aloud about respect,
In the next breath say what they reject,
What is left of their sincerity,
When they would assassinate individuality?
Yet they maintain this contradiction,
They justify in the name of the nation,
How the needs of the many are almighty,
Which only leaves me with this inquiry:
Did you not create the notion of conformity?
Sought to rid people of their freedoms,
In the name of what you would have as morality,
As sponsored by your organised religions?
To impose what you perceive as decency,
With words you wrote in the name of your creation,
I will never be so weakened to believe blindy,
Your sacred scriptures are indeed from the heaven!
ends with chorus
MAN'S GOD
by Michael Pain
One little word
For all the answers
One little word
For all your needs
One little word
For all the answers
One little word
Get on your knees.
We are God
Ignorance of omnipotence
We are God
Ignorance of humanity
We don't care about what we can't see.
We don't mind the contradiction,
We don't mind the hypocrisy.
One little word
For all the answers
One little word
For all your needs
One little word
For all the answers
One little word
Get on your knees.
We are God
Our creation, the deity
We are God
Bow down to humanity
We are God
Bow down to me
Burn 'em down
by vehement_rancor
Burn 'em down
Oh burn them down
Only a moment
And they'll burn
like wicker cabnet
Religion is useless
and oh so frail
So burn the churches down
Stand on watch 'em burn
burn to the ground
How much prettier they are
when flames dance upon them
No more "church bells
ring-ring-a-ling"
No more wasted space
no more money squandered
Minds now free to think
and ponder
in reality
So let 'em burn
Burn 'em down!
He said:
I want a barrier
To divide
Different people
Who stood side by side.
I want hypocrisy
And constant war.
Common sense
I want to ignore.
I want exploitation,
My voice to be heard
And to spread disease
Throughout the World.
I want riches,
"It's god's word," i'll cry.
While millions of people
Fall down. And die.
Divine Author
Your book reeks of humanity
Each page soiled with the blood, sweat and ignorance of man
Best seller of the laity
Man authors divinity
Your god cannot bleed, so he must burn
How many must die before we learn?
God died today in the heart of another man.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
And in this soil a seed is planted.
God died today in the mind of another woman.
The black dirt, the moist earth,
From this new garden, wisdom grows.
I was always taught that God died that I might live.
I never realized how true this was.
His death nourishes the seeds of wisdom, happiness, and freedom.
This is a eulogy, a benediction.
I am saddened by my loss,
But know a better life is ahead of me.
Love and hate marked this relationship.
I loved this mythical invisible father.
I hated the crotchety old judge.
Like the child of an alcoholic,
Or a battered wife, who still loves her husband,
I am glad he’s gone, but I still miss him.
The new garden I have has wonderful plants,
But I still have to pull weeds of doubt and guilt,
It’s my responsibility now.
As a child must grow and leave the safety of home,
I have grown and left the eternal security of heaven.
I have outgrown my god, and laid him to rest.
Father
Went to your house the other day.
Your children said you had gone away,
a millennia or two ago.
“He will be back soon”, they say.
I decided to stay.
Your house is kept clean,
The blood spilled by your children cannot be seen.
Every day now they tell me of your way,
Great deeds done in your day.
They know alot about their father,
That they never really knew.
You never bothered to tell them the truth about your mother, the whore.
They really have no idea what you have in store,
For the world that is waiting at your door.
When I was little, I was ignorant. Every day was just something to be
filled with play, naps, snacks, giggles, imagination, friends... the
few bumps and bruises I got were all the wore there was to pain I
felt. Mommy and Daddy smiled at all the adorable things I did. All of
my family was made up of the smartest, nicest, most reasonable people
in the whole world. My sister was my idol, my best friend. Everyone
who met me loved me, I just knew. No one thought less of me for what
I said or did. That tone of voice they used when amused with what I
showed them was genuine. Nobody ever lied to me.
I was naive.
Ignorance is bliss. Was bliss.
Now I know people hate me. I know people fear and despise my
existance because of what they've heard or what I think. They accuse
without knowing me. My family rejects a lot of what I say, and think
me ill-minded and pitiful in so many ways. They pray for me. They are
uncomfortable with me. My Dad yells at me when I don't think I've
done anything wrong. My Mom makes my feel guilty and mean. My sister
is once again my idol, my best friend. I take comfort in my solitude,
yet lonliness is in the back of my mind. People think I'm stupid and
immature, or at least I worry that they do. I know I could die
tomorrow, and I know that I am an end in myself. I know no one
completely agrees with me. I know I offend people, and people offend
me. I know the war, the pain, the filth of the world. I feel like I
know too much, but no one will inderstand. Am I the one who's wrong?
I am naive.
Ignorance was bliss. But would I do well being ignorant again?
Blind obedience (for an insecure god)
Believe I am what I say I am simply because I say,
“I am”!
Do not question me.
Never ask me why!
Only...believe that I love you.
And believe that I care.
Believe that I know what’s best for you.
And believe that I’m there.
Now, Bow down to me,
Die for me,
Devote your life to me,
Do all that you do- for me,
But never question me,
Never ask me why!
Demand no proof!
Believe that I would never hurt you.
And that your blindness is a virtue.
Believe I am what I say I am simply because I say,
“I am”!
We need no god, only eachother
So this is the work of some higher being
I'm not at all impressed with what I'm seeing
A beautiful universe at distance
but explain to me it's existence
According to you, it's the work of some god
but this creation is nothing but fraud
A poorly plagiarized Van Gogh
at a price, if any, that's low
No love put in it, no matter
what the creator's claim
Excuses for his actions, lame
But you buy it all the same
Perhaps to look good
to all other's who don't know
That this is some horrible
marionette show
So many lonely
so many phony
People chasing love
through impossible odds
people worshiping unknowable gods
The whole world is lost
even those who religion they've found
An answer that leaves unending questions
As they continue wanting love
in their possession
Reaching their hearts across miles
in hopes for love
without a single audible word
from this fake alleged to be above
But so many make excuses for him
just as a woman does for the man
that she currently has
Not because he loves her
though she claims he does
But only, only because
she needs to be loved
Whether it is real
she has "faith" it is
even if she be atheist
For even we can succumb
to something so dumb
when in need of love
And here is this atheist
that is I
Who does love her
from so very far
As this scene tears my heart
Because we, I beLIEve,
are truly in love
But due to circumstances
these puppets do their dances
taking blind chances
All we want is to be together
and are unable to be so
So, we send our love across the land
as time drifts like desert sand
Where will it lead two non-believers
believing in love
without imaginary support
from a lie up above
We need not a god
just another human being
to give life meaning
For people are truly all people have
Atheists-in-Foxholes
monument, dedicated on July 4, 1999
"Atheists in foxholes, some say they are myths,
Creations of the mind who just don't exist.
Yet, they answered the call to defend, with great pride.
With reason their watchword, they bled and they died."