No More Room in Olympus

Our statues breathe life into us, and our souls tame.

“Tame, Mortals? Never! Their own inhumanity is of fame!”

Zeus towered above the Gods by name.

Hades, Poseidon, Mercury. Wait, who is to blame?

“Where are you Hermes? This man brings us shame!”

“Perhaps what is it to say that I have a crossbow to aim!”

Zeus Thundered, “I will not tolerate this, end this game!”

Jupiter descended, “Olympus is our domain, it is our acclaim.” 


And so it began

Mortals were no longer a fan

Of this heavenly clan.

War has raged since, oh, how great it would be to be man!

Mortal, able to die. It is so crowded. Here’s the plan!

Hades no longer controls the underworld, his dogs not the doorman.

Perhaps if us and our kinsman

Were to raid it, we could gain, from a deceased mortal, a lifespan. 


Out of Olympus came many ranks.

But, Zeus took the time from battle to give them one last thunderclap.

Aphrodite, Hera, Ares, Apollo and Athena. Their hearts blank

Of the meddling and meaning of life as a trap.

Hera led a humble life, in the fall of Rome. One be it so frank

She had new children, even as Zeus knew the man to be a good old chap.

Apollo, a German Musician in the wake of the 1800’s yank.

His music and art was fine, gave the mortals quite a zap.

Ares, A British Man in the Great War. Quite skilled in flanks

Died with a bullet through the chest and a happy face on his body covered in burlap.

Aphrodite, a Russian during the Cold War. Born in a dismantled tank,

To humble farmers. An effective agent, Her Lure got much out of Yankee skull caps.

Finally, Athena to a Modern American in good ol’ 2000’s Burbank.

With knowledge at her fingertips, she loves to learn and take a recap.


Be it so, I suppose.

That the Death of the Gods was unflattering, who knows?

Zeus made sure they were born in the right time, he chose.

They outmaneuvered the Mortals, it just shows

Being mortal has its pros.

The Gods of old are trapped still with highs and lows.

But Zeus, in a Final stand proposed

That he would leave the ranks. The Romans had one as he arose.

The Romans too were short in time, newer figures took to repose.

A man in white Robes would have no other of his ranks, a genocide to bulldoze

The warriors in that fight I will not disclose. 

For their souls are beyond our ability to transpose. 

If only the Gods could see how we admire their shadows.



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