THE GODS OF MEN
The Gods have sat in the same place for centuries.
Some in the mountain on the clouds,
Some in brick temples and some under water,
Submerged with cities of gold.
Now the gods sit together in a hall,
With the Gods of Greece, and of Rome,
Of the quaint city in Mexico,
The million gods of India, too, sit covered in gold.
The God sits with his Prophet.
And the God sits next to his crucified son.
The God sits with his hundred wives,
Around the Gods of love, of Wine, of War.
None speaks, they watch.
As the prayers keep flowing in,
The hall of gods is now filled,
With all we gave them to eat.
They smell the flowers we plucked,
And eat the fruits we grew.
They caress their crowns we forged,
And they hear the bells toll.
Words of praise echoes there.
Tears of joy, of despair flood that hall,
But the Gods still sit unimpressed,
What do you think the Gods want?
The heavy door now thuds,
Outside a stench rises, and blood flows.
Hermes returns with the death toll,
And a limb of man for proof.
The blue earth looks red to them.
And the sea is filled with drowning men.
The green pastures adorned with dried blood.
Do you hear the gods weep?
