Category Archives: Blasphemy

“He’s Competent Enough”


“He’s Competent Enough”

He’s competent enough,
His purposes, deception; to lure, to entice;
His blessings’ victims savour His advice;
His beauteous summons–roughly
Marked behind a phrase; everywhere
A preposition–redundant, simple superstition,
Hired, inspired, peerless in its erudition.
His words herald neither faith nor certitude, declare
His recusal from all beginnings which
Have no memory to ends that
Bear no fruit. His tapestries, exquisite,
Hung like Grendel’s arm upon the great oak door, each brilliant stitch
Hangs limpid there, its stench a hint of the silent letter of blasphemy
And all that raises Heorot here where mortals live and death is immortality.

…photograph by Saija Lehtonen…


Bahá’ís throughout the world gather this evening and tomorrow within the First Day of the Month of `Asmá [Names]

Bahá’ís throughout the world gather this evening and tomorrow within the First Day of the Month of `Asmá [Names]

“Double Sonnet in Honour of the Feast of ‘Asmá [Names]”

Greatness, the gulf of differences between
Recipients of names and the manifestation of the same
In full blown vain imagining; objective oversight’s the flame,
At least the spark any given second. A constant stream,
The crown of transformation comes in time to weave
A gravity within the press of what is never really seen.
Within a name resides a hidden thread that only seems
The confirmation both of life and being—in bas relief
Or so The Buddha warned—that holds a lethal trust. Between the name
And its receipt abide the seeds of pernicious doubt and protestation,
Manifest but without form, no timely attestation,
More an emanation than anything in revelation. In every atom reigns
The distance and sweet velocities of change. The many tools
Of blind belief in Adam’s gift seek rest somewhere within reach of fools
Embracing blasphemy in luminous dichotomies, dilemma’s
Punctuation marks’ delusions born of natural sedition. Litanies–
The beads of faith and understanding–are crystals of epiphany
Drawn from rich deposits deep within the endgames of enigma
And paradox serving providence and the farce of perpetual plebiscites;
Their greatest honour, servitude in service
To unnatural homeostasis between justice and integrity, yearning
And the One for Whom all yearning stems to transcendental heights
Born in mortal time of He from Whom all virtues flow.
And when denial and prayer are in arrears,
When needs and resignation outweigh a sum of means;
Words gone bankrupt erupt and deeds are stripped of fat and lean,
As hopelessness finds redemption in an average skein of years,
With all that overwhelms the truth at sunrise
In redemption in the simple phrase, “I’m still alive.”

“They Address Themselves”

Richard MacDonald2

“They Address Themselves”

They address themselves only, their colours, fears that bleed
The default, the code, the sometime arbitrary bloods of red, white, or blue,
Hues of auspicious concern or trepidation; precaution reigns within the jewel
That holds the bending of the prism’s light,
setting  thralls in line—the mirror’s seed,
Immaculate and pure—the coronation of denial set upon an Attic steed,
The ancient plough of Cain’s bright logic on that fateful day, the crude
Supposal of some slight in God’s apparent oversight, as if God were rude
With no less than petulance and ingratitude than creation that feeds
Itself on sulphuric notions that once created, “`twere no request
Of ours for breath or life, and ërgo ours, and ours by right
To tax the Tax Collector, harvest tithes, and forget the usury of the loan,‘”
Trumpet this sustaining note as the universal moan
And cry, “Worship cause, deny effect, and give the workers straw
to sustain the Holy Ordres of the bricks and loyal to the cause recite:
We’ll rise again; we’ll perogue the day; we hang, perhaps, tonight.


…sculptures are by Richard MacDonald…