Burning Sacred Temples



We hold dear

Our mythologies

Enshrined in light and mystery

Whispered in holy repetition

Narratives to reassure us

That our fragmented existence

Makes sense.


But what if these

Shackles of solace

Chain us, unnecessarily

To a divine script

Haphazardly written over top

Of a gnawing sense of meaninglessness

Rote theology scrawled furiously

Over rampant doubts

Screaming to be examined

Beyond the veil of platitudes

Past sacrosanct liturgies

Masquerading as certainties

Supporting the last bastion

Of religion’s floundering bedrock?


If we burn our sacred temples

On the brink of nihilism

Set fire to our creeds

On the altar of ambiguity

What crutch would remain

To sustain us

In life’s chaos?


Written for The Magpie Tales in response to the photo prompt of Nefertiti. Since my response might initially seem a little disconnected from the photo, here’s the back story. The photo had a religious feel to me….the people standing in awe, gazing upon Nefertiti. When I read more about her, I learned that, “Akhenaten and Nefertiti were responsible for the creation of a whole new religion which changed the ways of religion within Egypt” (Wikipedia). This, coupled with the fact that I just finished reading a book about the role religion plays in culture/individual lives, instigated the thoughts in this post. Also, as I mention in my About page, I am also on a journey of my own that involves grappling with issues of faith and ambiguity. This post represents some of that grappling.

magpie tales statue stamp 185


Synaptic Stupidity



In the synapse

Between Fantasy and Reality

Neurotransmitters dance

To the overpowering beat

Of Denial

Wishful neurons

Passing jolts

Of hopeful electricity

Back and forth


With frenetic belief

In the possibilities


By delusional desire.


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Linking up with D’Verse Poets Open Link


Love Sequence Interrupted


Cloud 1




Twice or thrice

Or have I lost count

Calculating variables?




Results in

Tidy formulas

The only sequences are fibs





Equations unsolved

I thought we’d function as lovers

Clearly, I miscalculated. It figures.



Word Count: 42

This Gargleblaster is written using the Fib, an experimental Western poetry form based on the Fibonacci sequence. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence (1/1/2/3/5/8). See more about the Fib at Wikipedia.

The last line of my entry does not follow the Fib, therefore the expected sequence is ‘interrupted.’

A Mermaid’s Song Goes Awry



Mermaid dreamer

In my depths

Swimming towards

Sandcastle hopes

Starfish wishes

Singing sweetly at sea

Magical, mythical lures

To enchant the mariner

Captain of my stolen heart

But, he remains sea-worthy

While I flounder

Shipwrecked alone

On an island meant for two.


Word Count: 42

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Read more over at the pangalactic Gargleblaster.

Signs of Yielding


In the graveyard of her soul

A tombstone

Littered with thorns

Choking the roses

Daring to grow

Above buried dreams

She did not chase

And scorned identity

She never claimed

This haunted ground

The repercussion of her

Yielding, ceding


To him.


Word Count: 42

Linking up with

The Power of Blue


1912, John William Waterhouse

Sweet Summer, 1912, John William Waterhouse

In summer’s succulent sweetness

When red flowers bloom

And Nature’s living room

Is draped in green and gold


My soul’s still shrouded, sadly

In a weighted dress of despondent Blue

That I cannot strip, even for you

Though I try, Dear, I try


When the orange sun kisses my dismal breast

And warm breezes flirt with my cold heart

I’m almost enticed to believe I could start

This radiant thing called Living


But, the law of gravity

Has a force of greater pull

On those already, tormented, full

With thoughts that drag them down


So, yes, I see the colorful garden

Hear the sparkling fountain flow

But, still, I cannot sow

Even a bushel of vibrant joy


In the midst of beautiful growth

To stagnant earth I’m confined

Held down, resigned

To never sense anything more powerful than Blue.


Linking up with Magpie Tales for Mag 225.

magpie tales statue stamp 185

The Howling Hourglass



A million grains of sand

Rushing through my fingers

Gushing into wasted chasms

I cannot fathom

How to grasp even one

To clasp it with awe

Listening to brevity


Levity glistening

In fleeting golden sun

Screeching granules


For more time


Word Count: 42

Linking up with Yeah Write


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