The worst God I can imagine,
Is the one pushed on the people
Forcibly, in order to create a "Perfect State".
It is the one of Philosophy, who is an architect
For a better world, the one taught
Through bizarre theories of pseudoscience 
And flawed arguments of Design.
It is one that has the dictum of Morality
And nothing more.
The one substantiated by being a "Great Architect"
And Creator, but goes no further.
It is forced on people, and therefore abused,
And proven through diversions and rants
And esoteric lies.
"Oh, God must only exist if there is no evolution
"If perpetual motion doesn't exist
"If the world is flat."
It is a myopic god, a sterile god,
A god of fake Christians who ultimately will succumb to their lost faith.
It is not a robust God, manifested in the way we treat one another,
But a god of no virtue, only sufficed that we believe in it
In the most Anglo-centric way of understanding it.
It is the god honest Atheists hate, it is the god of most of Christendom.
It is the god that when encountered with true evidence for the faith
Immediately the tenets are abandoned.
It also does not like art, or activities, beyond devotion to the state.
It also shuns creative people, philosophers, and misfits.
Yet, it is, in all hypocritical effects, a god of Philosophy,
An unmoved mover
A great architect
A moral compass.
Not alive.

The birdsongs in the morning
Sing their notes, ending on one
Like it were a nursery hymn.
The people used to sing like so.
And now they don't.
As a wise man once said, the peoples had music
In them at a time... and now they don't.
No... it's not that they don't, it's that they can't.
For the melody in their hearts,
And the common tongue is made to stammer
And is drowned out by busy work
Which makes them unable to understand a thing.
Maybe I'm just crazy, but I understand whatever someone tells me.
Maybe listening, and knowing, is all I ever had---
But the Birdsongs are less frequent now
And a rare blackbird comes by my way
Or a swallow or finch
I learned hard to listen to them, and communicate it to others why they sing.
So, maybe the world will forget it.
Maybe it will forget me.
But, I had music in my soul.
As a wise man once said.

Love grows cold---
A virgin is shamed for being beautiful,
A boy is shamed for having no male lover,
A man is shamed for a small inconvenience,
Another man, his own mother wished he were never born,
Two women are shamed for being a drunkard and fool;

The child's parents speak this evil over them
And bring them to the stockades.
They raised the fool, did they not?
Where was the discipline?
Where was the kindness?

Hatred, calumny, greed, conspicuousness, 
Malignity, deceit, lewdness, selfishness,
Even a young boy was "Bisexual"
What world do we live in where this is so?

These are the "Good" people, mind you.
I cannot even imagine the Evil.

It's amazing how close the Academic story
Parallels my research, but add the various
Discoveries I've unearthed, it becomes 100%
Clear the God of the Bible is real
And the story of the Jews is historical.
Such discoveries as the Chariots off Neiwebu Beach,
The Lead Curse Tablet at Ebal--which shows El and Jah were always there--
And you erase the baseless skepticism
And High Criticism---as it's all based on a priori reason
And not hard facts---it's a compelling case that the Bible is 100% true.
The Chaldeans were probably always there,
Just like the Hittites, and probably the Philistines too;
It's just a lack of available data, which one discovery ought to shatter;
As they numerous times did, until they started being brushed under the rug and hidden.

Genesis seems to be a metaphor of Evolution.
Sages like Pythagoras and Confucius find similar moral Laws.
There is much physical evidence of the Jews.
All things which are physical and moral, possess Laws which they must follow;
For nature, it is so it has being, for mankind, so they have joy.
The Bible, though not perfect, is substantiated on evidence.
Abraham influenced Mesopotamia, not Mesopotamia Abraham;
The Hebrews came from Mesopotamia, but only few men knew El-Yah.
The Gospels were written through eye-witness testimony; they are not legendary.
Why need a perfect scripture, if God is alive, and can reveal whatever He wants?
Listen in thoughts and prayers to the universal way:
We all know in common Homosexuality is horror
And Bestiality and Incest too;
It is not right, either, to malign the child's innocence with sex.
A man marrying his horse or sister
Is no more or less lawful than a man marrying a man.
It is common among mankind to wish to be satisfied by one bride, and women one husband;
This is our deepest psychical desire, and let no man fool you.
To lose this, makes one have no good.

Dancing satyrs, in the West
You know not what is best.
You do not know the universal tongue
Of symbols which man has won.
You know not good or ill
But rather, you cause men to swallow a bitter pill.
Speaking to you, is hard or worse
For any common thing I share
You are not very well versed.
Common language, common thought
The human animal, you know not.
So, some strange, new thing art thou
A Satyr dancing and draws a crowd.

Daphne, so serenely being beautiful in the woods
And wretched Hades sees you, and wishes to bed.
He touches, and chases, and holds you down good
But has no desire for you and he to be wed.
No, he just wishes to taste your fruits, and every man
You meet is possessed by the Satyr's dance
Of chasing good Daphne across the forest
For there is great Lustings in the land.
You go to the pub, the street the chapel
And there you find a satyr gives chase
My LORD, purge sweet Daphne of this feral
Thing, so she can be pure, and honest and chaste.
Not have her scarred memories of wicked, awful rape.
No... give release from this demon by Jehovah-Jireh great.

I shall make a statement, not like a modern poet
Who'd string together a bunch of random
Sentences, in utterances of pathos, with no reason.
That is not poetry... at least not the good stuff.

No... one time it was said,
"Why not say it directly, and to the point?"
There is a little thing in a person
Who can completely understand...
Enough experience, enough contextual understanding
Any poem can be peered into.
Even Wallace Stevens, saying you couldn't,
I understood every line,
Though his theme of the exact minutia is correct;
There is minutia which cannot be peered into
And the poet's exact thoughts are unknown.
But, universal symbolism and Logos
Allows a common theme to be shared
And readers to see and share, and understand
One another in common language.

It was said, "Comparing a woman to a tulip,
"Another inanimate object,"
But, the woman in a dress looks like a tulip
And common language shows a flower is the most beauitufl
Of all God's precious creation, but woman is superior.
Thus, the living flower, which is not inanimate either,
Is compared to the woman, to draw forth that she is
Most beautiful perfection of all God's creation.

Poetry is about universal language, and symbolism.
It is about shared culture, and heritage.
It is about drawing from the common core of Logos
The things found and shared across all cultures.
A Japanese man who is angry about Tolkien's Orcs
Does not understand the Orcs are Huns
Not Chinese. Rather, he is angry, because for some reason
He places himself among the Orcs
Which are despicable creatures, are they not?
And in that, is another feat of imagination
How the common symbolism is lost
And the ancient languages obscured
By modernist attitudes in the arts
Where they are found lacking in the universal language
To understand that an Orc is evil embodied
And is not a racial Allegory.
As Tolkien said many times, he despised Allegory.

No, things are timeless. The Raping Hun is evil
Thus must be discarded, and their body unceremoniously cast into a pit.
The wicked nation--as is the universal, as war is a universal of mankind
And men blessed with peace, fail to understand it, until it arrives
And they see what it has done to their lands.
Or, like the Poet, they read the Bible in wonder at God's violent laws
And see the horror on troops faces for what they had committed on a battlfield.

So also, love is drenched in the poet's verbiage,
They pry and prod, and try to promote peace and love
Sometimes getting into naughty bits of imagination
To help the reader understand.
Sometimes they are a gadfly, and sometimes they are a monster slayer
Expressing the cold and uncouth nature of the world.

Sometimes they express national sentiments, 
And politics, and sometimes they write from memories.
But, it is moral knowledge which poets convey
And without which, we have no moral compass.
Without the moral compass of Poetry
And the vein of imagination winked at by God
There is no common heritage for all peoples
But rather fractures of Sin upon Sin
Making war, and totalitarian style worship 
Of a monolithic and unnatural abomination.

Do understand, poetry is the sentiment of authors
Through memory, through mimesis, through imagination
Through moral and political and religious and philosophical and psychological and sociological
Lenses, that draw together common symbols
Bringing forth the dusk's dawn,
So men do not stumble in the dark.
For there is no politics in poems... there is only the muse.