Sanctified Idols

Offered sacrifices

far outweigh the receiver’s acceptance,

this is fresh sacrifice on the altar

possibly

to

invoke

                        a fresh

response.

passionate intensity filled anxious hearts.

More desperate worshippers poured in

unperturbed by slippery sticky clay.

The grand promise of granted wishes

a secured anchor,

the look of pure innocence pasted on eager faces.

Tucked away in hidden depth

the cloaked sacrilege.

Painful is the effort at concealment.

Hopeful the Seer

will lose intensity.

***

Covert

Murky waters reflect blood

streaked faces.

In groups of threes…and fours.

talon nails drive home honed in intentions

of devilish proportions.

Heads bunched together

an insidious plan is hatched.

Nurtured in fake glows

and hideously carried out

it spanned across the ages.

A life

well planed

well thought out

falls apart at the stratum.

Its path long ago decided

by nameless faces…

Till bolts of vindictive thunder

Cast asunder           

Peals of fiendish billows…

***

Beyond The Dark

A glint, a glimmer,

unpenetrating darkness.

Somewhere in the silence the incubator hummed

in sad monotones,

hatching with frightening speed demonic spawns.

Soon they will populate the atmosphere

With drawn daggers and spewed blood.

Determined they will chart a course through—

Blood.

Geysers of it.                                                                                                   

In the midst of the widening gyre

The simple is swallowed along

The wise is seen in the dark beyond

Studded emeralds!

Gifted with discernment

they ignore the ardent promises of power seekers.

***

Breaking Point

I see your eyes fill with tears.

I see it journeying across the desert of your face

not stopping to whisper goodbyes at dunes

not stopping even, at the bridge of the nose,

where the art of breathing

 might derail intended course.

I see your face in the clear oasis of realities.

I understand the distortions that threaten to mar their features.

I understand the desert language.

Of keening sounds buried in throaty wishes

A drop. A sigh at the gates of Fevers!