Soul-Eater (a poem)

The soul-eater has corrupted me thoroughly

this world teeters on brinks of insanity –

the soul-eater lurches thru

underground tunnels quietly,

he searches for innocence

to destroy violently –

save me from the soul-eater,

I beg you, please,

nothing is sweeter to him

than sadistic glee.

(Photo by BSD on Unsplash)

Grateful (a poem)

the word grateful comes from

the Latin gratus & was first used

in English in 1552,

so says the internet wizards,

who remind me I didn’t use

this word – grateful – very much

‘till I realized there was

a hole in my soul,

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The Stain on our Souls (flash fiction)

The old man speaks of phantoms. He lay on his death-bed, and his face is ashen and sickly.

“Our home,” he says, “it’s haunted. Haunted by my sins. Haunted by my father’s sins, and his father’s sins.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

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The Center of Things (a poem)

i’ve always admired monasteries

monks cloistered from total noise

alone with demons

swimming in silence & striving

for divine union that no one

can name, but only point

to, the center of things,

the seat of the soul

(Photo by Josh Couch on Unsplash)