The sands of Canaan's ancient lore,
Where Baal the real storm-god was worshiped through his righteous war,
Against Yam the sea itself the taker of many and more,
thrashing, wild
salty embrace,
the many clubs of Kothar, smashed Yam in his serpent's face
relentless until Yam's heads split in two.
Their love was shattered, for them… not me or you.
Family in his watery realm.
Thunder for his might bereaved.
Rejoiced or grieved.
Mot then as grim death, or simply famine's hollow maw,
somehow swallowed Baal whole
as daily he threatens to again consume us all.
Contemptuous flaw; and not the end for Baal .
Anat was beckoned to avenge him too, grinding Mot like grain,
before it was through.
Reviving Baal to rule again, their eternal fertile plain.
Long before Yahweh was ever even known to be capable of rain.
Yahweh , in his obscurity
lands withered barren, no rain, no verdant law.
They gave what they got and saw what they saw. NOTHING .
Anat though was a powerful women,
they tried to erase her from history
take her femininity away from you and me .
This fierce sister, hunted their devourer grim,
Seized Mot in her wrath, cleaved her enemies limb from limb
With sword splitting, sieve
she winnowed our grain, teaching us how
but to her we were never forced to bow.
She burned some in fire, grinding under millstone
reaped from the plow.
Generously scattering his remnants to the birds to claim
A grotesque pulverizing, we hear of the deeds seldom realizing
death's own death they proclaim.
Baal rose again of course
renewed, fertility and its power restored,
these cycles whisper Isis , Osiris : old gods to new
faded,
ignored.
The tribes of Shem though were not done with him .
They defaced Baal in the worst of ways
stripping him not only of power and deed
but of his very name in their lowly screed.
They rebranded him as only Hadad
a once mighty life bringer
reduced to yet another god .
Another of which you must forsake
for there would be only one who’s lessons of 'love'
you were to take.
When the Iron came
it literally fell
into the wrong hands
of those , who had forgotten well.
That would almost be the end of Baal
The end of the true old gods.
The end of excitement and heroism
and deed in myth ,
and thus
the weakening of us all. No Arete or grand call.
For greatness in combat and love making was to be no longer sought
replaced by bland sameness, infinite rules and rituals are what the 12 tribes taught.
Denigrated into “ turning the other cheek”
a lie perpetrated to control the newly created liars
the meek
forever leading the meek.
They shall NOT inherit this earth
for money and greed was always their true god
and to it , daily ... they give birth....
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 1:11 PM UTC
The sands of Canaan's ancient lore,
Where Baal the real storm-god was worshiped through his righteous war,
Against Yam the sea itself the taker of many and more,
thrashing, wild
salty embrace,
the many clubs of Kothar, smashed Yam in his serpent's face
relentless until Yam's heads split in two.
Their love was shattered, for them… not me or you.
Family in his watery realm.
Thunder for his might bereaved.
Rejoiced or grieved.
Mot then as grim death, or simply famine's hollow maw,
somehow swallowed Baal whole
as daily he threatens to again consume us all.
Contemptuous flaw; and not the end for Baal .
Anat was beckoned to avenge him too, grinding Mot like grain,
before it was through.
Reviving Baal to rule again, their eternal fertile plain.
Long before Yahweh was ever even known to be capable of rain.
Yahweh , in his obscurity
lands withered barren, no rain, no verdant law.
They gave what they got and saw what they saw. NOTHING .
Anat though was a powerful women,
they tried to erase her from history
take her femininity away from you and me .
This fierce sister, hunted their devourer grim,
Seized Mot in her wrath, cleaved her enemies limb from limb
With sword splitting, sieve
she winnowed our grain, teaching us how
but to her we were never forced to bow.
She burned some in fire, grinding under millstone
reaped from the plow.
Generously scattering his remnants to the birds to claim
A grotesque pulverizing, we hear of the deeds seldom realizing
death's own death they proclaim.
Baal rose again of course
renewed, fertility and its power restored,
these cycles whisper Isis , Osiris : old gods to new
faded,
ignored.
The tribes of Shem though were not done with him .
They defaced Baal in the worst of ways
stripping him not only of power and deed
but of his very name in their lowly screed.
They rebranded him as only Hadad
a once mighty life bringer
reduced to yet another god .
Another of which you must forsake
for there would be only one who’s lessons of 'love'
you were to take.
When the Iron came
it literally fell
into the wrong hands
of those , who had forgotten well.
That would almost be the end of Baal
The end of the true old gods.
The end of excitement and heroism
and deed in myth ,
and thus
the weakening of us all. No Arete or grand call.
For greatness in combat and love making was to be no longer sought
replaced by bland sameness, infinite rules and rituals are what the 12 tribes taught.
Denigrated into “ turning the other cheek”
a lie perpetrated to control the newly created liars
the meek
forever leading the meek.
They shall NOT inherit this earth
for money and greed was always their true god
and to it , daily ... they give birth....
