So Long as God Is My Witness

 Have you ever looked out to the stars and wondered where the spark of life came from? How it all happened. What is the purpose of life and is there an all-seeing eye watching over us?

So Long as God Is My Witness

Oh, the little girls and boys, the greatest wonderers, of all things made,

The nature of the world, of birds and bees, strange creatures arrayed.

Yes, innocence of kids, in questions asked, and amusing things they say,

Their dramatic acts, quirky imagination, and the weird games they play.

The world to them a mysterious place, its constant pace, way too fast,

To keep in step, as all the confounding forms of life go whizzing past.

So many missing links and loose ends, the chaos and confusion of life,

Kids lost in time and space, a universe full of strange sounds and strife.

In a topsy-turvy world of day and night, the higgledy-piggledy stress,

The challenges of simple things, like sleeping, eating, getting dressed.

Learning how to speak, and what to say, and the abstract art of reason,

A world of touch and taste, hot and cold, stormy weather out of season.

Rain, puddles, mud, sunburn, and building sandcastles on the beach,

Abrasive words of "don't touch," and things that are kept out of reach.

The emotions of love, growing pains, hunger, smell, confusion, and fear,

Good and bad, and strange words they are not supposed to overhear.

The empty feeling of not being wanted, and the awful weight of scorn,

Awkward answers to, "Where did I come from?" and "How was I born?"

The sensations of joy and happiness, or being caught in the pit of doubt,

Then the greatest puzzle of all, wondering what everything is about?

 

One such child, one evening stood upon a little hill, gazing at the sky,

In wonder at the twinkling stars that shone far from the world awry.

In the darkness time checked somewhere between then and there,

And in that moment of thought came a question, like a silent prayer.

To who knows what, something larger than the child could conceive,

The most mysterious conundrum of all, in what we should believe.

It was, of course, the point of being, the most complex creation of all,

The celestial spark of life, a challenging concept for a child so small.

What had ignited the beginning phase, what vast force had prevailed?

Perhaps somewhere out in space, a great architect in darkness veiled.

The listening ear, the all-seeing eye, the keeper of the universe,

As the little silent thought went forth, through the cosmos it traversed.

Who would have thought that a child so young would have asked,

What some may not consider, and others dismiss as daft?

Unlikely to get a reply, an answer from the zeniths of outer space,

A fitting reply to the meaning of life that infant child could embrace.

 

We once were that very child who looked unto the stars overhead,

Well beyond the universe in awe, its glow of constellations spread.

On clear nights when the stars put on their most magnificent show,

Our starry eyes drawn out into infinity, beyond the heavens aglow.

Standing beneath the radiance, envisioning magical myths of gods,

On ground where generations before had imagined lightning rods.

Looking into the endless vault where countless worlds might reside,

As we pondered other realms, unseen beyond the mortal tide.

Of angels, apparitions, great spirits, and mystical beings unknown,

And all the mysteries of creation far beyond our flesh and bone.

Sometimes we hear the sound of the little girl or boy inside of us,

When we yearn respite from the age of chaos, to get off the bus.

To shed the weight of growing old, the rules of keeping in check,

The urge to be free from having to conform to the upper deck.

To spread our wings toward the sky, to dance to a different sound,

But common-sense reigns us in and puts our feet back on the ground.

 

One such evening I stood in absolute wonder beneath the vivid sky,

I sensed a profound celestial sadness cast from the all-seeing eye.

For Eden's garden once abundant had been stripped near and far,

Tainted yet again with death and desolation, division's deepest scar.

Mankind at odds with God, inclined toward self-destruction's path,

Civilisations set to destroy Eden on earth, compelling wars and wrath.

The weight of this awful legacy lay scattered across the age’s past,

Its wounds engraved upon the injured earth, a hideous residue cast.

The blood of wars, the cries of grief, the pride of false kings and men,

All witnessed by the architect who watched it unfold over and again.

Aghast as mankind bent to hatred's insanity, sharing the self-same air,

Inhumanity sowing bitter seeds until they blossomed everywhere.

Insanity seldom ceding its grasp, greed and lust clouding weak minds,

The endless search for condemnation of different creeds and kinds.

Men with broken wills, cruelly bred, devoid of compassion and grace,

With the trampling of innocence in the persistent, indifferent race.

Thugs bound in masks from truth, creating misinformation and lies,

As though the Judge of all the earth cannot see through mortal eyes.

 

The clerics who misconstrue the will of God and the precious gifts of life,

And the blessings of love, the claims they make, and calls for sacrifice.

The men who live day to day, taking from others, the ones in need,

Regardless of the misery they create, merely to feed their greed.

Unaware there comes a day when every soul in judgement stands,

No kingdom, crown, nor earthly power has impunity upon its hands.

Death's door waits without escape, marking the end of mortality,

Where the measure of time is weighed in the last gasp before finality.

For all the words that have been spoken in triumph and pretence,

To be weighed against the witness of misdeeds and conscience.

Non-believers and religious men who worship many different gods,

Their revelations shaping cultures, with doctrines often set at odds.

Thinking they know what is best as they dismiss any thought of love,

Stamping their ugly brand of hate on Eden's turf, unable to rise above.

 

Yet beyond the strife of nations and beyond the worldly wars of men,

There remains a greater purpose calling out time and time again.

Beyond the hosts and councils, beyond ruling powers great and small,

The God of all the demigod’s reigns sovereign still, above and overall.

And the scattered tribes and faiths of the earth need not remain apart,

For every soul bears the same elements of the common human heart.

The walls we build through fear and pride need not forever stand,

Wisdom, mercy, love, and truth could unite us hand in hand.

We all walk among the fallen souls beneath the same enduring stars.

As God is our witness, we should not deny liability nor cast blame afar.

The questions remain while we can choose: "Do we believe in eternity?"

Or do we live from day to day within the lost fraternity?

Drifting aimlessly through realms of self-doubt and disbelief,

Where disenfranchised souls languish cultivating guilt and grief.

With freedom of choice to live in scorn and condemnation,

Or listen to the all-seeing voice of reason in search of salvation.

 

In hope there is a chance that all the madness of earth could cease,

That from the bonds of tyrants, odium, and wars we could find release.

That there could come a dawning where the vast divide is finally healed,

Where hatred's banners disappear and every wounded soul is annealed.

The merging of souls where the fate of all people is no longer grave,

Set free from mindless despondency and the bondage of the enslaved.

Civilisation no longer bound by ancient edicts of fear and war,

The amalgamation of worldly tribes united in common cause.

Before the One who witnessed all from the celestial beginning of time,

And Eden could bloom again where evil thorns once climbed.

As all the lost nations grow in unity, finding peace under one God.

 

Above the city, upon the hill where I was born, in solitude I stood,

Beneath the constellations set in space, in celestial brotherhood.

My favourite retreat from the frenetic world and colour of day,

Under the mystical lights and ever-watchful gaze of the Milky Way.

Hidden from the cluttered sight of day, shrouded in the dark of night,

Waiting to catch sight of a meteor, a falling star, or satellite in flight.

As the stars cast what appeared to be their timeless sparkles in bloom,

I heard a haunting voice sent from outer space; it spoke of pending doom.

 

In the gravest tones the threads of death clawed at my conscious soul,

The most fearsome visions raced through my head; my heart grew cold.

The entire earth devoured by an endemic plague of greed,

And in that moment hope's eternal dream seemed to lose its need.

The all-seeing eye had opened a vision within my mind to view,

The sight too much for me to consume, my thoughts askew.

The dawn of reform would never come, nor Eden thrive again,

The garden forgotten by the selfish plague of mankind insane.

The planet stripped naked by lust and greed, beyond repair,

The soul of Mother Earth left for dead in a wasteland of despair.

The sky above the desecrated earth turned crimson red from dawn to dusk,

While toxic winds swept endlessly through clouds of choking dust.

 

As life, born of the spark of life, in desolation was left,

Gasping for one last lungful of air, struggling for its final breath.

A warning of a future fraught, a time bomb set to explode,

The fragile bubble bound to burst, life on earth set to implode.

The legacy mankind leaves behind in the wake of folly's trail,

Another fragile world turned to dust, the runaway train derailed.

The spark of life extinguished, mankind finally fails the test,

The arrogant and the heedless convinced they knew best.

In needless greed the heedless seed turned its back upon the earth,

Stamping its wicked mark upon creation, inhumanity at its worst.

 

Though some might think my soul possessed, I must be absolutely clear,

I am neither prophet, fortune-teller, nor divisive seer.

So long as God is my witness beneath the stars that light the way,

Follow me, ere I pray, far from fearsome guns as night gives birth to day.

To discover the way, the truth, the life, and the wisdom in the stars above,

To find soulful purpose beyond despair, beyond the mourning dove.

Heed the inner voice, the voice of unity, the Creator at the helm,

Whose presence endures forever in the timeless realm.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET  (June 2026)

Baba Yaga

 

Baba Yaga

Once a youthful spirit who ran untamed and laughed with delight,

She met a mysterious woman who taught her the craft by moonlight.

They danced naked and leapt high above the hungry flames,

Rode wild horses through the forest bareback and unrestrained.

 

Now the balance has been twisted and contorted for the worse,

The land lies beneath a darkened cloud, a wretched curse.

In the pit of fire, she lies awake, tossing and turning,

In a restless state, mind inflamed and her body burning.

 

Her entire world out of balance, her sacred craft out of sync,

Her spells all drifting offbeat, her cauldron of fire on the blink.

The sacred forest lies under siege from the madness of Orcs,

Its ancient legacy cleft, all creation rendered a corpse.

 

Yet still she persists to create the mother of all spells,

Yearning to brew the potion that will rock the evil citadels.

To end the slaughter and erase the plague of ravenous beasts,

Their lust for land and genocide descending from the northeast.

 

As Baba Yaga stares with empty eyes at her withering fire,

Vexed and gripped by the confusing spell of restless desire.

Within the flames that lick the air, she searches for a vision,

To end all pain and suffering, and heal the wanton division.

 

A greater power to intervene, changing wind and tide,

The spark that can ignite again the unquenchable fire inside.

Yet Baba Yaga lingers by her dwindling fire's glow,

Seeking answers only ancient wandering spirits know.

And somewhere past the smoke and ash, beyond the darkened sky,

She hopes that God still hears the prayers too weary now to cry.

 

The embers whisper softly through the drifting smoke and haze,

Remembering brighter nights and wild untamed days.

Though Orcs may stalk the forest and darken earth and sky,

Though sleepless nights bring weary tears and leave her asking why,

Beyond the smoke a thousand hearts still tend the sacred flame,

And those who walk beside her quietly speak her name.

 

For deep within the ashes, beneath exhaustion's crushing weight,

There sleeps the fire of the wild one whom darkness cannot break.

The spark awaits its destined hour, the turning of the tide,

To rise again in splendor with the untamed fire inside.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (June 2026)

If I Was God

 God forbid the thought of blasphemy!

The madness of greed and wealth!

God forgive the homeless and the forgotten!

The downtrodden and the innocent children!

If I Was God

 

If I was God, what would I see each time I looked down on you?

The roads you walked, the way you talked, your twisted worldly view.

As you feed your addictions with the rising of the sun,

Working your fingers to the bone till the moneylenders come.

 

With my all-seeing eye cast far and wide, watching every move,

To all my rules you must abide, my laws you shall approve.

How you act and speak toward each other, through the clitter-clatter,

Men of mixed race and different creeds, with all their unusual chatter.

 

The strange smells of exotic foods, the smoke, the fumes, the mess,

The repugnant beggars on the corners, the vagrant homeless.

Perhaps I should build a tower, a mighty tower in the clouds,

A tower to Trump them all, adorned with jewels and gold so proud.

 

And all my precious things within, my entitlements for me,

Vaults overflowing with the wealth and gifts that I decree.

As kings and queens and presidents bow down in my respect,

And heap before my throne the treasures that I should expect.

 

And there upon my marble steps the faithful all would crawl,

Kissing rings upon my hand while praising me through all.

Their banners raised, their voices joined in hymns of fear and awe,

Declaring every word I spoke perfection without flaw.

 

Great choirs dressed in robes of white would sing my sacred name,

While starving children far below were left out in the rain.

Perfumed halls and banquet tables heavy underneath their weight,

While blistered hands in freezing streets still begged outside my gate.

 

Statues cast in gold and bronze would tower to the skies,

Reflecting back my glorious face through vast cathedral eyes.

And mirrors lined in silver frames would show me clothed in light,

A living monument to power enthroned in endless height.

 

A place above the gutters where you tread amongst the others,

Far removed from filthy streets and all your human brothers.

So tall that I could cast my eye on every soul below,

Yet none could see me watching them from heights they’ll never know.

 

With my scornful eye observing everything you do,

As I catch the lightning bolts and hurl them down on you.

While you cringe beneath the thunder at the roaring of my voice,

And feel the wrath of narcissism should you dare rejoice.

 

The oceans would fall silent when commanded by my hand,

The mountains bow before me, the meek obey demand.

And all who dared to question me would tremble at my feet,

Condemned beneath my holy rage, abandoned in defeat.

 

Beware the day that soon may come when I call out your name,

And judge your every weakness while pretending I’m unchanged.

For if I was God and ruled the heavens from above,

Would I command you all through fear — or understand through love?

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (May 2026)

God Forbid God Forgive

 Who really can say that God has forgiven this man? The weight of salvation and absolution is one that belongs in God's hands!

God Forbid God Forgive

They feast upon the forbidden fruit, in sordid lives they live,

Filled with incestuous thought, God forbid and then God forgive.

Living in the space between bad and good, and good and bad,

As they boast of their sins committed and transgressions had.

Alternating between two different languages that they speak,

The one of sinful acts and blasphemy, each day of the week.

Then Sunday’s child, meek and mild, they keep the Sabbath day.

The utter hypocrisy of their lies, pleading with God to be saved.

Preaching and praising, worshiping in an altered state of mind,

Down on bended knees, as they mingle with the forgiven kind.

Content to think that they can be saved, in the eyes of God,

No matter, what sins they have committed, where they trod.

Their victims left in the wake soiled, and abused beyond repair,

Trashed and cast aside by gluttonous men, who do not care.

Men with sick minds locked in an endless cycle of toxic insanity,

As they demand of God the right to be forgiven for profanity.

Lo come the day, when they will pay, in spiritual recompense,

As they languish in hell, their eternal punishment dispensed.

The sordid lives they have lived, and innocence they have riven,

What God has forbidden! They have no right to be forgiven!

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (May 2026)

The Unrepentant Confession

 Something a little different. I guess that my imagination has been inflicted with all the evil men in the world. Their lack of compassion and feelings toward other people. Their unpredictable responses to people who they do not agree with. Their brazen attitudes and contempt toward the rule of law and humanity.

The Unrepentant Confession

I met a drunk, who spoke of awful things, that he had done,

Broken laws in many states, evaded justice, still on the run.

He spoke of crimes in reckless tones, explicit in detail,

And bragged how he outwitted men who sought to put him in jail.

 

He portrayed his victims as mere objects, void of worth or name,

How he stalked them through the streets as though it were a game.

He left them broken where they fell, then vanished out of town,

And while he kept on drifting, they had never tracked him down.

 

The tavern lights burned dim and low, the hour growing late,

While shadows gathered near our booth like something close to fate.

The laughter from the other folk grew distant, faint, and thin,

As though the world beyond our space no longer dared step in.

 

He smiled at moments ill-suited, then fell deathly still a-gin,

As though old memories stirred, somewhere, far beneath his skin.

I watched the twitching of his jaw, the tightening of his hands,

And spoke to calm the rampant fire, that no man understands.

 

For something dark behind his eyes seemed restless, cold, and strange,

And every careful question asked appeared to make him change.

I felt the stiffness in my spine each time he leaned in near,

While every word he softly spoke seemed sharpened now by fear.

 

I asked him why recount such tales so sordid and obscene,

And what he thought that he would gain now, in coming clean.

He said he’d turned another page, and left the past behind,

That he had called upon the Lord and now possessed peace of mind.

 

He claimed, God had washed his sins and freed him from his shame,

And said retracing steps once more would serve no useful gain.

“No point,” he said, “in dredging up what’s buried deep and gone,

The Lord forgives the truly saved, and life must still go on.”

 

The tavern keeper glanced our way, then quickly looked aside,

As though he sensed that something foul beneath the surface lied.

The room grew quieter still, as if the night itself had drawn

Its breath closed in, around our table, waiting for the dawn.

 

I thought about the cold case files left gathering dust for years,

The sleepless nights endured still by the victims’ kin through tears.

The empty chairs, the unanswered prayers, the grief that never ends,

While he sought comfort for himself beneath religion’s lens.

 

He leaned in again; stale ale upon his breath, hard to bear,

And for a fleeting moment then, I feared what lingered there.

His eyes grew fixed, and vacant-like, then sharpened suddenly,

As though he scoured my anxious face, to gauge my chemistry.

 

I thought to rise and end the talk, escape into the night,

Yet something deep within me warned retreat may not be right.

So, I carefully chose my words, and kept my movements small,

For men who carry buried rage may snap without recall.

 

He laughed at things no soul should laugh remembering the dead,

Then drifted into silence with both trembling hands outspread.

And once he softly named a town where no one knew his face,

Then smiled and said, “Some folks just vanish, without a trace.”

 

The wind outside began to press against the window frame,

As though it too had heard enough to know the man’s true name.

And I felt chained by fear detained unable to depart or break away,

As if the stagnant air had choked itself refused to let me rise and stray.

 

At last, he rose unsteadily and staggered out into the night,

He didn’t look back, his nefarious form swallowed out of sight.

Though I had seen no sorrow live, no anguish, fear, nor dread,

I had indeed, seen all the ghosts, of all the victims in his head.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (May 2026)

Oh Liberty

 Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free!

The Statue of Liberty no longer a beacon welcoming the world to the American shores.

The USA now ruled by Trumps ruthless regime of misfits and abusers. His supporters just standing by, watching the circus of insanity that they have brought to the Capital. Complicity!

ICE rounding up innocent civilians, immigrants and even tourists. Then subjecting them to terror and abuse.

This is the age of enrichment and self-centered politicians who feel entitled to take what is not theirs to take from the poor and the destitute. Of war mongering pirates on the high seas! The age of Bitcoin and Bribes. The age of ignorance, lies, misinformation, broken promises and treaties.

Oh Liberty

Oh Liberty, by your grace, your poise—dear friend of mine,

I see your torch held high, a beacon burning bright through time.

How I admire your crown, so justly worn, your virtues bold,

With faith and courage beating strong within my heart and soul.

 

For you, Liberty, the checkered road I’ve left behind,

To live within your light and dream again of better times.

The past—of pain and sorrow—where in misery I dwelt,

Now bound as one beneath freedom’s gaze, I stand, not knelt.

 

At sight of you, my hope, my strength, my dreams take root,

In freedom found, my restless mind stands resolute.

From those who sought to press upon my head a crown of thorns,

To tear away my liberty and leave my spirit torn.

 

Each rising sun sets fire anew within your lifted flame,

A path to freedom found, where all may come and stake a claim.

Oh Liberty, kindred spirit, with your sacred tablet held,

A living word of freedom, where oppression once was quelled.

 

Your broken chains and shattered shackles speak of what was cast—

Of tyrannies and rigid caste that bound us to the past.

The jangle now drowned by The Liberty Bell in Philadelphia rung,

To the sound of the anthem in The Star-Spangled Banner sung.

 

Oh Liberty, reminder of the values for which you’ve stood fast,

In threat of foreign wars, and fear still born within the downcast.

With the fabric of your robes now left threadbare with discontent,

By men of greed who break the dream of hope with ill intent.

 

They cast aside the bonds of trust that make a nation strong,

And seek to rewrite the Constitution—turning right to wrong.

But we will rise again at sight of you, to face each growing threat,

As venom seeks to stain that sacred word—we will not forget.

 

United in the cause of peace, in all you stood before,

We hold the line, remembering what freedom stands for.

And though the winds may lash your torch, and tides may turn away,

Its fire endures—reflected in the eyes that yearn for day.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (May 2026)