The Last Atheist Falls

From a new collection of story poems I'm working on. End times, post big war type stuff.

Madmen cherish the voice of the Great Stone.
Breaking their bones at it’s indifferent whims.
Victims of misguided faith and regard.
Praising a god as hard and cold as time.

Minds as broken as the earth all around;
Digging in the ground to find some new hope.
The sky has gone grey; the trees turned to ash.
Disaster yields a new master: humanity kneels.

In this lifeless wreckage, faith is a nuisance;
Old noose for new necks to break beneath weight
Of hate and greed and  mortal confusion . . .
Illusion by illusion; stone by stone.

They once hailed stars from the Miskatonic Valley,
They once hailed a god-man on a torture tree,
They once hailed the Pan, seed and fair forest;
They must have some name to cry to and revere.

Now they hail the rock pile that sings: Jor Lithim,
But my only hope and faith is in me;
No mystery needed; just will to survive.
I’m alive! That’s all I truly know.

Tied to the old rusty frame of a Datsun;
I am forced to face the song of Lithim.
He sings out his will, but I sing mine, too,
And there’s no harmony in our stubborn tunes.

“Rise up from that tomb, and show me your face!”
I scream at the voice with no faith in my tone.
But he hears no word of my vulgar demand;
His song is continuous and abstract.

I laugh to the headman of this steadfast tribe.
He pays me less heed than this mound of  stones.
I smile at the knowing look in his eyes, and ask:
“What will you do when the batteries run out?”

He grins like the lion that swallowed the lamb,
Aims his gun at my head with a steely intent;
“I have twenty thousand  hidden in the temple.
You’re far too smart to be running amuck.”

There’s a blast, and the last atheist falls.

Author's Note

:D

Reviews

[Gandré]

quite the poem, dear friend. That's awareness, so glad to find a political opinion on WC, you expose the inside dynamics of atheistic thought, of course I thought about Dawkins and his book, I am sure you have read it, I can imagine there are perils of acceptance in a Christian continent like America... so I like how you keep your poem in motion percolating in its provoking ideas.