My favorite atheist poem

[_Runtu]

Hap

If but some vengeful god would call to me
From up the sky, and laugh: "Thou suffering thing,
Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy,
That thy love's loss is my hate's profiting!"

Then would I bear it, clench myself, and die,
Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited;
Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I
Had willed and meted me the tears I shed.

But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain,
And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?
--Crass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain,
And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan. . . .
These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown
Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain.

-- Thomas Hardy, 1866

[_The Dude]

Atheists don't write poetry. They only write practical sciencey stuff.

[_KimberlyAnn]

My favorite atheist song:

Into My Arms

I don't believe in an interventionist God
But I know, darling, that you do
But if I did I would kneel down and ask Him
Not to intervene when it came to you
Not to touch a hair on your head
To leave you as you are
And if He felt He had to direct you
Then direct you into my arms

Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms

And I don't believe in the existence of angels
But looking at you I wonder if that's true
But if I did I would summon them together
And ask them to watch over you
To each burn a candle for you
To make bright and clear your path
And to walk, like Christ, in grace and love
And guide you into my arms

Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms

And I believe in Love
And I know that you do too
And I believe in some kind of path
That we can walk down, me and you
So keep your candle burning
And make her journey bright and pure
That she will keep returning
Always and evermore

Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms

KA

[_cinepro]

Here's my favorite atheist song...

I Will Go Sailing No More
by Randy Newman

out among the stars I sail,
way beyond the moon
in my silver ship i sail
a dream that ended to soon
now I know exactly who I am,
and what im here for
and I will go sailing no more

all the things I thought I'd be,
all the brave things i'd done
vanished like a snowflake,
with the rising of the sun
never more to sail my ship,
where no man has gone before
and I will go sailing no more

no it can't be true
I could fly if I wanted to
like a bird in the sky,
I believe I can fly
why I'd fly

clearly now, I will go sailing, no more

It makes me long for the day when a special combination of prayer, olive oil, and my very touch could heal someone.

[_Moniker]

Not atheists, yet, will do:

WRITTEN IN DISGUST OF VULGAR SUPERSTITION
John Keats

The church bells toll a melancholy round,
Calling the people to some other prayers,
Some other gloominess, more dreadful cares,
More harkening to the sermon's horrid sound.
Surely the mind of man is closely bound
In some black spell; seeing that each one tears
Himself from fireside joys, and Lydian airs,
And converse high of those with glory crown'd
Still, still they too, and I should feel a damp, -
A chill as from a tomb, did I not know
That they are dying like an outburnt lamp;
That 'tis their sighing, wailing ere they go
Into oblivion; - that fresh flowers will grow,
And many glories of immortal stamp.

The Garden of Love
William Blake

I laid me down upon a bank,
Where Love lay sleeping;
I heard among the rushes dank
Weeping, weeping.

Then I went to the heath and the wild,
To the thistles and thorns of the waste;
And they told me how they were beguiled,
Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut
And "Thou shalt not," writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.

XTC Dear God
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hk41Gbjljfo

Dear god,
Hope you got the letter,
And I pray you can make it better down here.
I don't mean a big reduction in the price of beer,
But all the people that you made in your image,
See them starving on their feet,
cause they don't get enough to eat

From god,
I can't believe in you.

Dear god,
Sorry to disturb you,
But I feel that I should be heard loud and clear.
We all need a big reduction in amount of tears,
And all the people that you made in your image,
See them fighting in the street,
cause they can't make opinions meet,
About god,
I can't believe in you.

Did you make disease, and the diamond blue?
Did you make mankind after we made you?
And the devil too!

Dear god,
don't know if you noticed,
But your name is on a lot of quotes in this book.
Us crazy humans wrote it, you should take a look,
And all the people that you made in your image,
Still believing that junk is true.
Well I know it ain't and so do you,
Dear god,
I can't believe in,
I don't believe in,

I wont believe in heaven and hell.
No saints, no sinners,
No devil as well.
No pearly gates, no thorny crown.
you're always letting us humans down.
The wars you bring, the babes you drown.
Those lost at sea and never found,
And its the same the whole world round.
The hurt I see helps to compound,
That the father, son and holy ghost,
Is just somebodys unholy hoax,
And if you're up there youll perceive,
That my hearts here upon my sleeve.
If theres one thing I don't believe in...

Its you,
Dear god.

[_Moniker]

Bad Religion - God Song!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9SSP7e- ... re=related

and did those feet in ancient times trod on america's pastuers of green?
and did that anthropocentric god wane with their thoughts and
beliefs all unseen?
i don't think so, he's up there with the others laying low,
vying with those who you've traded your life to to bless your soul,
and have they told you how to think, cleansed your mind of sepsis and automony?
or have you escaped scrutiny, and regaled yourself with depravity?
now we all see, "religion is just synthetic frippery,
unnecessary in our expanding global cultural efficiency"
and don't you fear this impasse we have built to our future?
ever so near, and oh so austere

Bad Religion - 1000 More Fools
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OyidVxesH7M

I heard them say that the meek shall reign on earth
phantasmal myriads of sane bucolic birth
I've seen the rapture in a starving baby's eyes
inchoate beatitude
the Lord of the flies
so what does it mean
when your mind starts to stray?
kaleidoscopic images of love on the way
brother you'd better get down on your knees and pay
1000 more fools are being born
every damned day

they try to tell me that the lamb is on the way
with microwave transmissions
they bombard us every day
the masses are obsequious
contented in their sleep
the vortex of their minds ensconced within
the murky deep

Bad Religion - Do What You Want (Just don't do it around me!!!!)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s5F-xHX1PDE

Hey do what you want, but don't do it around me.
Idleness and dissipation breed apathy.
I sit on my ass all goddamn day,
A misanthropic anthropoid with nothing to
Say what you must, do all you can,
Break all the damned rules and
Go to hell with superman and
Die like a champion, yeah hey!
Hey I don't know if the billions will survive,
But Ill believe in God when 1 and 1 are 5.
My moniker is man and Im rotten to the core.
Ill tear down the building just to pass through the door.
So do what you must, do all you can,
Break all the damned rules and
Go to hell with superman and
Die like a champion, yeah hey!

~I'll stop - I could do this all night!~

[_Bond...James Bond]

If God is so great

If God is so great, why aren't things that great??
If God is everywhere, why isn't he anywhere??
If God is perfect, why are things not so perfect??
If God is the truth, why is the world full of lies??

If Jesus is loving, then why are his children unloving??
If Jesus is tolerant, then why is the world so intolerant??
If Jesus is the way, then why is the path so crooked??
If Jesus is the answer, why are there so many questions??

If God is so powerful, why do we fill so powerless??
If God is the creator, why does he allow destruction??
If God touches everyone, why do people remain untouched??
If God is the Alpha, when is the Omega??

If Jesus is a God, then why doesn't he prove his divinity??
If Jesus talks to people, why doesn't he speak to me??
If Jesus is the savior, why are so many never saved?
If Jesus is love, why is the world so full of hate??

If God is all powerful, why can he be defined??
If God is all knowing, why do we not know??
If God is so wonderful, why is life so lackluster??
If God can bring happiness, why does sadness reign??

If Jesus is the King, why isn't there One country??
If Jesus is the Prince, why is there no peace??
If Jesus brings unity, why does the world splinter??
If Jesus is the One, why are we so many??

If God is so believable, why do so many disbelieve??
If God is so easy to reach, why is he so unattainable??
If God can punish, why are sinners allowed to sin??
If God is so just, then why do the unjust rule the just??

If Jesus is coming back, when will he arrive??
If Jesus can defeat evil, why is evil in control??
If Jesus has arisen, why doesn't he return others??
If Jesus is so simple, why so many definitions??

If God creates riches, why are so many poor??
If God blesses the meek, why aren't they blessed??
If God is so visable, why are so many disallusioned??
If God is the word, why are the words so fictional??

If Jesus is the sheppard, why do so many scatter??
If Jesus is the teacher, why do so few learn??
If Jesus is the councillor, why are so few councilled??
If Jesus can do everything, why doesn't he do anything??

~Bond circa 2006

[_Moniker]

Just one more (for now!)

Tori Amos -- God
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=viFvXzy3NkE

God sometimes you just don't come through
God sometimes you just don't come through
Do you need a woman to look after you
God sometimes you just don't come through

You make pretty daisies pretty daisies
Love I gotta find what you're doing about things
Here a few witches burning
Gets a little toasty here
I gotta find why you always go when the wind blows
Tell me you're crazy maybe then I'll understand
You got your 9 ironin the back seat
Just in case
Heard you're gone south well
Babe you love your new 4 wheel
I gotta find why you always go when the wind blows

Will you even tell her if you decide to make the sky fall
Will you even tell her if you decide to make the sky

God sometimes you just odn't come through
God sometimes you just don't come through
Do you need a woman to look after you
God sometimes you just don't come through
Do you need a woman to look after you
God sometimes you just don't come through

[_moksha]

Christmas Eve in Whitneyville
by Donald Hall
--------------------------

December, and the closing of the year;
The momentary carolers complete
Their Christmas Eves, and quickly disappear
Into their houses on each lighted street.

Each car is put away in each garage;
Each husband home from work, to celebrate,
Has closed his house around him like a cage,
And wedged the tree until the tree stood straight.

Tonight you lie in Whitneyville again,
Near where you lived, and near the woods or farms
Which Eli Whitney settled with the men
Who worked at mass-producing firearms.

The main street, which was nothing after all
Except a school, a stable, and two stores,
Was improvised and individual,
Picking its way alone, among the wars.

Now Whitneyville is like the other places,
Ranch houses stretching flat beyond the square,
Same stores and movie, same composite faces
Speaking the language of the public air.

Old houses of brown shingle still surround
This graveyard where you wept when you were ten
And helped to set a coffin in the ground.
You left a friend from school behind you then,

And now return, a man of fifty-two.
Talk to the boy. Tell him about the years
When Whitneyville quadrupled, and how you
And all his friends went on to make careers,

Had cars as long as hayracks, boarded planes
For Rome or Paris where the pace was slow
And took the time to think how yearly gains,
Profit and volume made the business grow.

"The things I had to miss," you said last week,
"Or thought I had to, take my breath away."
You propped yourself on pillows, where your cheek
Was hollow, stubbled lightly with new gray.

This love is jail; another sets us free.
Tonight the houses and their noise distort
The thin rewards of solidarity.
The houses lean together for support.

The noises fail, and lights go on upstairs.
The men and women are undressing now
To go to sleep. They put their clothes on chairs
To take them up again. I think of how,

All over Whitneyville, when midnight comes,
They lie together and are quieted,
To sleep as children sleep, who suck their thumbs,
Cramped in the narrow rumple of each bed.

They will not have unpleasant thoughts tonight.
They make their houses jails, and they will take
No risk of freedom for the appetite,
Or knowledge of it, when they are awake.

The lights go out and it is Christmas Day.
The stones are white, the grass is black and deep.
I will go back and leave you here to stay
Where the dark houses harden into sleep.

[_the road to hana]

Two favorites, not necessarily atheist, but hey, whatever. Good for whatever ails the common existentialist.

Matthew Arnold, Dover Beach

The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.


Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.


*******


T. S. Eliot, from The Wasteland, IV. Death by Water


Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
And the profit and loss.
A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passes the stages of his age and youth
Entering the whirlpool.
Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.