Singing the Psalms and Hymns (a poem)

These psalms written on my skin
Tattoos, remind me of my kinsfolk
Midnight, the clock sounds its stroke
When everything slowly begins
To unravel, the world madly spins
In the blood, we are soaked
Of depravity, we are kings
We sing the psalms, the hymns
Tumble down the mountain
Thunder rumbles within
Street-prophets laugh, grin
Never getting out alive
Our society on the fringe
We arrive, survive
Redemption for our sins
These psalms written on my skin

(Photo by Eugene Chystiakov on Unsplash)

The Unraveling (a haibun)

Just another day in the nightmare landscape, the rugged rocky hills, and the prophet by my side. We climbed day and night, meeting with the sages and thieves in their torn rags, who gave us water to drink and food for our souls.

We are on a spiritual journey to discover who killed the Master of the Universe. It was the defining crime of our era, and perhaps all of humanity. When the bullet exploded through his head, spraying the cabin room with blood, brain, and sinew, the gaping chasm in the center of the Universe killed half the population.

The prophet looks up
The sky turns blood red and hot
We run to the cave

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Tyrant in Disguise (a poem)

Are you a friend or foe?
Truly, I don’t know
You creep around so slow
Then you bestow upon me
A guarantee of immortality

I don’t trust prophets like you
And the grand plans you pursue
You appeared, then withdrew
You claim you want to renew
The Kingdom of God

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No One Listens to the Prophet (a poem)

The prophet travels through the mountains
Reading the desolate landscape for signs
She misses her family dearly
She had to leave them all behind

The prophet had to go on a great journey
And warn the people of coming dangers
Recently she’s begun to worry
Of her society’s rapid changes

The people have lapsed into sin
And we all know what happens next
The great flood will soon begin
And wipe everyone off the map

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The Life of a Shaman (flash fiction)

Here’s a piece of fantasy flash fiction about a young boy, a shaman, and destiny. It’s about 740 words and has an estimated reading time of 3 minutes. Let me know what you think!

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River of Saviors (a haibun)

Washing in the river. Washing myself clean. Clean of the dirt and grime of a society gone mad. This is the way of my ancestors, to wash in the river away from the frenzies of the city. The water is cool, and my blood runs ice-cold when I step inside. I feel the purity of the saints.

River cleanses me
Of evil impurities
Baptismal waters

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Instability (a poem)

The end is closer than we think,

the wild-eyed prophet says.

He, who has spent time in psych wards,

sees visions of hellfire at corner stores.

What are these images of demons and flashes of inspiration?

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