God woke He stretched and yawned and looked around Haunted by a thought unfound A vagrant thought that would not die He rose and scanned the endless sky He probed the is, he traced the was He sought the yet to be And then he found the planet Earth, the half remembered planet Earth Steeped in pain and tragedy And all at once he knew He saw the world that he had wrought to suit his master plan And then he saw the changes brought by the heedless hand of man Man, so frail, so small Yet lord of all Striving, thriving Hustling, bustling Sowing, growing, ever going Ever learning, never knowing Less than righteous, less than just And in the end condemned to dust He heard the man-sounds everywhere The shots, the clangs, the roars, the bangs The clatter, clammer, guns and hammer And then he found to his despair The haunting hollow sound of prayer A billion bodies ever bending A billion voices never ending “Give me…”, “Get me…” “Grant me…”, “Let me…” “Love me”, “Free me” “Hear me”, “See me” While he pondered, watched and waited Endlessly they supplicated Chanting, ranting Moaning, groaning Sighing, crying Cheating, lying But towards what goal? What grand direction? This pious tide of genuflection To please their lord, to please their god He raised his head and laughed, laughed hard At man, the enigma, calling for aid Ever demanding, ever afraid Man, the enigma, bewailing his fate Yet plagued by inaction till ever too late Paradoxical man, so fearful of death Yet squandering life and lavishing breath Wasting his hours, diluting his days Accomplishing nothing while he prays and he prays Hypocritical man, pompous and preening Mouthing his rote Just from the throat Words without feeling Sound without meaning Such arrogance, such grand conceit To think one’s self somehow elite To demand each prayer be heard with care While painfully, vainfully all unaware One’s omnipotent, infinite, absolute lord Is bored God frowned How dare they believe that The Way and The Light Can be constantly badgered from morning till night? By what senseless standard? By what senseless rule? Do they treat their creator as if he’s their tool While proclaiming his glory, do they think him a fool? Who else but a fool with a cosmos to savour Would be bound just to Earth granting boon, granting favour Who else but a fool with a cosmos unfolding Would linger with man ever praising and scolding Who else but a fool with a cosmos to stray in Would conceive him an ant-hill and like a prisoner stay in Who else but a fool would create mortal men And then be expected to tend them, mend them, Cry for them, die for them over and over and over again God sighed I gave them minds as I recall, it was so long ago I gave them minds that they might use to choose, to think, to know For the hapless weak, must needs be wise, if they would prove their worth And then I gave them paradise, the fertile verdant Earth At first I found the plan was sound and somewhat entertaining But once begun, the deed now done, my interest started waning The seed thus sown The twig now grown I left them there Alone Alone, among the planets and the stars And the endless fathomless all Alone, bathed by light and clothed by dark Midst the vague and the vast and the small Alone Alone as I have ever been, as I shall ever be Why do they not accept it? How else can they be free? Why do they not accept it? Why do they search for me? Why? When their own little lives are so barren and brief When all of their pleasures are tarnished by grief In the space of a heartbeat their present is past They cling to each moment, but no moment can last When the end comes so quickly and they soon are forgot Why do they search for that which is not? Like unto children lost in the night They search for a God to guide them Like unto children huddled in fright They must have their God beside them But what sort of children, from cradle to grave Would grant him obiance and yet make him their slave? They have conjured a heaven and there he must stay Ever responsive, be it night, be it day He must love and forgive them and comply when they pray Ever attentive, never to stray And like unto children in their childish zeal They worship their dream thinking fantasy real God pondered He, The Be All, The End All, The Will and The Way The Power, The Glory, The Night and The Day The Word and The Law, The Fount and The Plan Lord God Almighty, was baffled by man He was puzzled by the paradox By the irony there in If only he could show them But where would he begin? How to make them understand, how to make them see How to make them recognize their own insanity They live for gain and they strive in vain To circumvent their death But all the gold and wealth untold Won’t buy an extra breath They bestow acclaim and they shower fame On those who rise to power But those who care, who love and share Are forgot within the hour They’re prone to fight, to use their might For whatever flag they cherish But those who cry “To arms” don’t die Their young are sent to perish Yes, all unsung, they kill their young Who fall and die and then they cry But why? A different house of worship? A different colour skin? A piece of land that’s coveted and the drums of war begin Only death can triumph, there’s no place left to hide And still the madmen ply their trade claiming God is on their side Of all who live, who crawl and creep Who take and give, who wake and sleep Who run, who stand, who dot the land from shore to shore Man, only man, none but man, wages war Only man, eternally killing Only man, infernally willing To concede himself grace To bury his race Only man, earnestly praying to his god as he’s slaying and piously saying As the battles increase He does what he must for his motives are just The mayhem, the carnage, the slaughter won’t cease But no need to worry, God’s in his corner, he’s killing for peace Man His greed, his hate, his crime, his war The Lord, our God, could bear no more He looked his last at man so small So lately risen, so soon to fall He looked his last and had to know Whose fault this anguish, this mortal woe? Had man failed maker? Or maker, man? Who was the planner? And whose the plan? He looked his last then turned aside He knew the answer, that’s why God cried -god woke by stan lee great poem knew he could write comics but this is great to long read sorry but worth it-
Posted on: Mon, 01 Jul 2013 07:55:28 +0000
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