Short Heretic Poems

Unholy heretic
your relics despoil
Augustine in tears
—embracing the shame

(Dreamsleep: August, 2022)...

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Heretic, lunatic, slug went to tea.
Two were crazy but then there was me.
Raunchy laughter loud
Truly insane proud.
Restaurant clapped when we left there finally....

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The not so joyful day


a blessful coming day evening faithful going heretic in joylessness kind lamps mimicked nuansence  openly parts queer rest subtly timely upon value watery xeroxing your zeniths...

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Could Never Be Copacetic 

Chances are Trump can never be copacetic;
But he has often been known to be heretic.
Not worth seeing,
And disagreeing,
Which is pathetic when should be apologetic.

Jim Horn...

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It was the legacy of legacies
Three dead men

It was the legacy of legacies
Three dead men

Two were thieves
One was a heretic
One other was spared

Many sparrows have flown since then
And many have died...

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Hideous heathen heretic!

Dangerous deadly derelict!

Blasphemous bellowing bunk!

Scandalous scheming skunk!

Rambunctious riotous rascal!

Devious as Eddie Haskell!

Cancerous countywide curse!

That's ok, I've been called worse....

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fog
by michael r. burch
 
ur just a bit of fluff
drifting out over the ocean, 
unleashing an atom of rain, 
causing a minor commotion, 
for which u expect awesome GODS
to pay u SUPREME DEVOTION! 
... but ur just a smidgen of mist
unlikely to be missed...
where did u get the notion?...

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blinding darkness

angels whisper's 

tangled in pain

numb in thought

I lay suspended 

upon a linear wire

sparks of thought

give birth 

mangled infants 

steel down up the floor

I turn further inward

It starts again

Where is life?

Solitary to the mind

A lunatic

A heretic

A fool

Or just a lonely soul...

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Heretic
your breath reeks
of brimstones ash
quenched with the blood
of martyred dreams.

I heard
hopes dying scream
as it burned alive
consumed by the flames
of your firey speech.

And now
you turn to me
lost Shepard
bemoaning the world's inability
to see your virtues.

I say
return false prophet
unto your true master 
spare me
your tainted sermons....

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Too late for the twenties ticked
into the next moment of a war that left a lack of discovery
Can the the adventurer’s covering cower in the true face of doom
A gloom more morbid as the hairy drunk writer wanders in lust
Writing tales of whales and water warriors that won’t stop.
Quests that have nothing to do with chores
Or the chores of a battle won.
A heretic in his divorced Catholic wife’s eyes....

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some say he's just confident,
   you say, no, he's very arrogant,
others say he's opinionated,
   you say simply hard-headed;

for some, he's open-minded,
   for you,  plainly uncommitted,
for others, he's truly tolerant,
   for you, he's heretic, ignorant,

some say he's a freedom-fighter,
   you call him terrorist murderer,
these matters of point of view,
   viewed and construed by you!...

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It burns and it stays,
strikes deep inside,
reveals your ways.
rips apart places to hide.

It creates the Indignant,
it creates the Wrongfully Scorned,
the heretic pronouncing now the Maleficent,
and friendships lost not mourned.

In hope it is said,
rarely is it well received,
open it is laid,
to help the deceived.

You scream out of shame.
With rage you shake.
insides aflame.
Because someone sees through the fake....

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O leviathan,
enter the dark cloud of death
defanging fire,
the mountain wants to shiver.

Sand was slipping from my fists.
I cannot hold the time;
wet eyes
will find another moon.

The milk had dried up in body.
A heart burns like bonfire,
for a heretic. A lone stranger
in a city of wolves.

A bareback beauty sits on the rock
waits for the sea
to bring her the poison. An Aphrodite
will never call for nothing.


Satish Verma...

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O leviathan,
enter the dark cloud of death
defanging fire,
the mountain wants to shiver.

Sand was slipping from my fists.
I cannot hold the time;
wet eyes
will find another moon.

The milk had dried up in body.
A heart burns like bonfire,
for a heretic. A lone stranger
in a city of wolves.

A bareback beauty sits on the rock
waits for the sea
to bring her the poison. An Aphrodite
will never call for nothing.


Satish Verma...

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On the grounds of Kongo dya Ntotila
Monte Kibango saw you born
O fearless daughter that quiet talks
Nganga Marinda of Mwana Kongo´s clan
In “Antonianism“ your belief was let known
To the dogmas of the Catholic faith, you were contrary
“Heretic!” - To death the clergy condemned thee 
On life, at the fire that burned much
Still, your goodbye was sincere
Now, in deep sleep
Crowned laurels, in eternal glory
Rest forgotten of the filthy settler...

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To worship God Shiva linga hundreds of kilo-liters of milk being wasted
Imagine how many hundred of proletarian child could have been served with nutritious food in such quantities of milk
for some days.
Please hang me as a heretic
Such as Copernicus who was killed by the fanatic
But know that I was
the truth.

(Shivratri is one of the ritual of the Hindus. 
In this day lakhs of woman pour a lot of milk upon an idol called shivlinga in the temple)...

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the barren light flickers
for the last time, sealing fate
what thought was meant to be
as I was set out, simply free
free to roam 
a solitary heretic in atrophy
living where roads
bleed upon the horizon
rubbed against ruins, in exile
exhuming me
I'll take the long way, love
trailing darkened paths
trudging past, weakness
spilt as strangers pass
through wayward nights
holding steady with the light
for even the pain, never lasts...

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There’s a light in the sky, we know what it means,
It means the death of the Maid of Orleans,
The crowd is shouting, listen, hark,
They're saying “Death to Joan of Arc!”
The wood’s piled high, the fire’s lit,
Burn the evil heretic!
And in the centre of their cries,
There stands a young girl bound and tied,
She loved her God and fought for France,
But they killed her when they got the chance,
Throughout her life her glory shone,
And even in death her name lives on....

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The beast Alhambra 
roared a violent psalm
Vile conversos
horrid moriscos, 
the heretic herds
A spear thrust into
our sun’s martyred ribs
Held in hateful grips
the yellow warblers
dripped in crimson sheen
Flying like Michael
the vengeful vassal
of Aragon’s decree
“O Torquemada
Hark the righteous call
King of Suprema
Execute them all!”
Cold unfeeling wretch, 
the flesh guillotine
Teeth clicking sparks
lit endless pyres
Three made Seville
weep at the sight of Friars...

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