The Literarian

The Author | Prose | Poetry | Song Lyrics | Undergraduate Studies | Graduate Studies | Plains Writing
Poem #4

God is Dead

“God is dead”

            the sage declared;

                        What are we to do?

Illusory

            is all we see

                        in everything we do

 

Love and loss

            the bitter cost

                        no matter what we do

Chains and bars

            to hide the scars

                        no hope in what we do

Truth and lies

            we try to hide

                        the tears in what we do

God or man

            there is no plan

                        divine in what we do

Doors and walls

            in all we saw

                        no profit in what we do

Living or dead

            no way to mend

                        the sorrow of what we do

Fate or choice

            there is no voice

                        the vanity of what we do

Fear and lies

            the silent skies

                        no answer to what we do

Good or ill

            there is no pill

                        to guide in what we do

Strange or known

            all winds ill blown

                        the grief in what we do

 

No god to hate

            or ameliorate

                        the painful things we do

All is lost

            like scattered dust;

                        Oh, what am I to do?

                                    Please, tell me what to do.

All text is copyright protected and remains the sole intellectual property of the Author.  Any reproduction of the material from this site for either public or private use is strictly prohibited.  Requests for reproduction of the aforementioned work(s) may be sent via e-mail to webmaster@literarian.org.  Such requests are not guaranteed unless expressly authorized in writing by the Originator prior to any use by the requestor(s).  God is Dead, Copyright 2007.

 He said, "Why should I tarry?"

And smiled with tranquil eye;

"In destinies sad or merry,

True men can but try."

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

(Lines 562-565)