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Array ( [sid] => 167522 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Gods Go Into Retirement [time] => 2011-09-28 06:46:06 [hometext] => [bodytext] => The Gods Go Into Retirement.

On the tip of the horizon, at the edge of the sky
Where the Sun burns brightly and the moon doth sigh;
The Gods choose to mingle, meander or play,
Squabbling with each other through the heat of the day.
Their topic of choice is Man down below
Toward whom their discussion is often to flow.
For them Man is nothing, a lumbering beast
Of all of Creation the one they like least.
Intelligence grew and now in their prime
They address the Gods only in poems with rhyme.
No temples of sacrifice, loathing or dread
They only say God when they’re dying or fed.
No matter what fearsome winds gather and blow
Or rivers that rise and toward them do flow,
Or when the ground shakes causing such great destruction
To what do they lay blame for these acts of attrition?
Nature, the Gaia about whom they all sing,
Not their Gods or their Elders, a terrible thing.
So after they argued and all had their say,
They decided from now, on that very day,
Man could go blindly along on His way,
Since He cared naught about them, no longer did pray.
Below them was Man who continued to work
From the loftiest King to the underpaid clerk.
Oblivious all to the decision just made
They cared for each other with communal aid.
To them Gods were all histories, myth or just fable,
Not real and all powerful, ready and able
To wreak havoc upon them with terrible tyranny.
For Man now the future was merely His destiny.
On the edge of the world the Gods all set sail.
Forget Man, they thought, let’s pick on the whale.

[comments] => 0 [counter] => 157 [topic] => 7 [informant] => Aliopterix [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => HumorPoetry )

The Gods Go Into Retirement

Contributed by Aliopterix on Wednesday, 28th September 2011 @ 06:46:06 AM in AEST
Topic: HumorPoetry

The Gods Go Into Retirement.

On the tip of the horizon, at the edge of the sky
Where the Sun burns brightly and the moon doth sigh;
The Gods choose to mingle, meander or play,
Squabbling with each other through the heat of the day.
Their topic of choice is Man down below
Toward whom their discussion is often to flow.
For them Man is nothing, a lumbering beast
Of all of Creation the one they like least.
Intelligence grew and now in their prime
They address the Gods only in poems with rhyme.
No temples of sacrifice, loathing or dread
They only say God when they’re dying or fed.
No matter what fearsome winds gather and blow
Or rivers that rise and toward them do flow,
Or when the ground shakes causing such great destruction
To what do they lay blame for these acts of attrition?
Nature, the Gaia about whom they all sing,
Not their Gods or their Elders, a terrible thing.
So after they argued and all had their say,
They decided from now, on that very day,
Man could go blindly along on His way,
Since He cared naught about them, no longer did pray.
Below them was Man who continued to work
From the loftiest King to the underpaid clerk.
Oblivious all to the decision just made
They cared for each other with communal aid.
To them Gods were all histories, myth or just fable,
Not real and all powerful, ready and able
To wreak havoc upon them with terrible tyranny.
For Man now the future was merely His destiny.
On the edge of the world the Gods all set sail.
Forget Man, they thought, let’s pick on the whale.

Copyright Â© Aliopterix ... [ 2011-09-28 06:46:06]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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