#temples
Below, there are statues,
Shrines and idols to gods unknown.
Their forms so very foreign,
Yet a dark familiarity emanates.
Those gods there enshrined,
In their primordial temples built long ago,
I know are yet to be worshiped —
Yet to emerge to the surface above
And claim their myriad followers.
Those great figures of stone —
I feel they are alive,
Waiting and bidding their limitless time,
Until they may rise.
Though I am keenly aware
Of a growing suspicion
That they already have.
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 1:09 PM UTC
I woke up early today.
I woke up close to the sun.
There's an abyss of thoughts in my head,
Those that can't be there. None.
I try not to think. I try to sleep back.
But it's no use! They press for no why.
They press in my temples! They press pack my chest!
Thoughts of those, who scarifies.
I don't know where to run me whole?
Where can I find my peace?
It's my hopelessness... It's my end...
I guess they are my guilt and penance.
Jun 25, 2025
Jun 25, 2025 at 5:34 PM UTC
What do I want? The meaning, I guess.
But only such as can fill me whole,
All my gaps and all my holes.
Yes, I want such meaning, I guess.
What else, you ask me? Freedom, I guess.
Where I won’t be in the grips,
Where the pain won’t throb in my temples.
Yes, I want such freedom, I guess.
What do I dream of? Silence, I guess.
No sounds, no creaks, no rustles at all,
A calm pulse and the air in whole.
Yes, I dream of such silence, I guess.
May 9, 2025
May 9, 2025 at 5:27 PM UTC
Burnished green,
Coloured crimson—
Reminiscent of the city of Dis.
Rising from churning seas of the onyx chagrin!
Carrying clandestine echoes of a civilisation within!
Dismantled— reassembled—
Delivering concrete messages to a futuristic consanguine.
Gaunt of the clergy,
Gaunt of the orchid,
Gaunt of a worship violation;
Conjuring apparitions of violent dissent!
The blue and the teal, they kneel, unseen,
Receiving concrete messages from a cardinal, unseen.
Sun bearing down upon the straining, emerald trees!
Many eyes and many limbs reach skywards,
Towards temple steams.
Jan 4, 2025
Jan 4, 2025 at 4:07 PM UTC
I sit here, amidst a darkened hall,
Congregating with the darkened rats,
Sipping upon a darkened drink— blood-drawn.
Now I rub my ******* and feel them swell
Amidst a rally-call within this darkened hall,
Possessed by a demon’s hypnotic call— his rally-call.
Apr 1, 2024
Apr 1, 2024 at 7:50 AM UTC
they’ve tried to mechanize, machine tool, the kindness business,
since it seems that being kind is no longer intuitive, au naturel,
but you and I can still scratch off the genes rusted shut that
help the elderly who set out to cross the street knowing full well
20 seconds ain’t enough to make over four lanes with a gait that
don’t move giddy up no more, even with a walker or a cane
the city sidewalks are tremulously arrayed with cracks and rough,
mini sized rises, even small hillocks, that we rushabouts rate noticed
until we have been tripped up in a prior excursion in that same spot
a child once ran out of the park onto the avenue, looking distressed,
in a city that’s overloaded with risk and dangerous one doesn’t want to imagine, wife says “something’s wrong,” sure enough a dawdler,
walking home with her dad, looks up and he is not visible; panicked,
who knew that in an a city of millions, where separation is a hell lot wider than five degrees of separation, that she would know my children, and let me walk her home; the father of course, hunting for her in all the wrong places, I walk her home…the mother, semi-stunned, asks how she could ever thank us, was surprised at my answer…”When your husband returns home to confess his misdeed, having lost his child, just greet him without opprobrium and blame,
for he has already punished himself far worse than you ever could…”
it is in the small things that we acknowledge that we are more alike
than not, and we are knotted in a single strand in ways we cannot
always ken, and sometimes, do not want to acknowledge, for this
temple building business is not without risk, but surely it is a structure built of bricks of loving compassion, and essences of goodness, the small kindnesses in our blood cells, that all of us innately possess...
Apr 9, 2023
Apr 9, 2023 at 3:37 PM UTC
#*In silence I stood
Dazzled by
The beauty that was
And is
Faded, not lost
Of the ancient temples
The architecture, the carvings on the walls
The floral murals and the central lotus pond
Speaks of souls
Who stepped here before
Teleporting to the time
When the foundation stone was laid
The breeze
A sense of déjà vu
A silent spectator
A shelter
And has brought souls together in marriage
A witness to many wars
Coronations of kings
Kingdoms lost
Seers and ascetics
The alchemist
Under the roof
Rhythmic chants of sacred verses
The sound of the conch blowing and bell
Is it all
Of the worlds
The temple has seen
Wanting and waiting to show
Am I ready
I am yet to know*#
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 2:31 PM UTC
Skin on skin,
Tracing each other’s bodies with gentle fingers,
Grabbing with needy hands,
Wanting each other a little less.
Emptying our souls,
Light being cast away,
Love wasn’t here.
No,
Love was an illuminating star.
Our definition of love was like the crumble of earth,
Letting it fall through the cracks of our fingers,
Dissipating.
Diminishing.
Delirious.
We didn’t make love,
No,
We made numbing promises within our bodies.
Our temple,
Our beloved temple,
We forgot the structure of which it sat upon and now,
Crumbling like the earth,
It collapsed.
It fell and it caved and it hurt.
It hurt like hell.
Our bodies continued to collide,
To touch,
To grind against one another,
But we did not complain.
Feeling physical was the only thing that kept us feeling at all.
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 12:59 AM UTC
Vain in their minds
Hearts filled with lust for darkness
Not all tongues are wise
Temples not sacred
Turn the sweet into sour
Numb, enslaved to vice
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC
When someone dies their thoughts
Die with them,
Their bones absorb their words-
After a summer others cease to remember,
We fade and then are gone.
Each person is replaced:
Vast cities shrink becoming grass-beaten mounds,
Shining cultures wither,
Their intricate palaces shatter,
Temples decay under interminable suns,
Religions flounder, sacrificed to time.
Philosophies expire like sunlight
When night falls, wise words unravel,
Tortured by inconsequence,
Decay dripping from each syllable
Like uncollected wind-driven *******
Running down a lonely street.
In the alley the dog howls,
Amongst the discarded boxes the
Raven sings.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 5:58 AM UTC
In dryest desert
Lay hidden jewels,
The monuments of days gone by,
Beneath the holy
Sands of Time,
Where altars to the Old Gods lie,
I found myself
Without my faith,
And could not pray, for I would die,
When I awoke,
Beneath the palms,
At the temple of the Ceruni.
To see their Gods,
Such power and fear!
For I've felt no presence as I have felt here,
So strong, so pure,
So rich; Alive!
The Gods have felt so near this night.
I wandered in,
Through sacred gardens,
Which no other man had yet seemed defy,
And came upon her,
Her robes as the snow,
The Goddess of the Ceruni.
She beckoned me
From silvered dome,
Where she was seated, upon silver throne,
I passed the great hemp
And red poppies which shone,
To lay my eyes upon her.
"O Dear Goddess," did i cry,
"Have the heart to tell me why,
When I have spent my days and nights,
Not quite dead, Yet not alive,
Am I shrouded in your Holy Light? "
She gave no words,
But simply smiled,
I, gripped by silence all the while,
Could find no speech
Nor pause for thought,
As she whispered lessons which one time, were taught.
You may think me mad;
I swear I am not!
I'll point out the towers if we find the spot,
Such silver and gold,
Such wonderful shine!
To be in a place where the Gods would recline.
I've witnessed the spires
Of fallen empires,
So proudly they stand in desert dry!
But I've no recollection,
Upon sudden reflection,
Of where the Holy Temple lies.
But when I die,
O, take me there!
Where hemp and poppy kiss the sky!
And on my slate,
Let them write,
"Here lies the last of the Ceruni!"
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 12:37 AM UTC
the edges are stained blue
and no matter
that spring is holding out its hand
in a promise,
spring becomes summer,
summer fall,
and winter again,
and the hours and the hours and the hours
and cities rise
and forests fall
once, gods
are now falling into disrepair,
temples on the verge
of imploding.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 7:46 AM UTC
...the dusty road, wearing a sombrero,
i saw a chained monkey in the middle of
the road...under the heat of the sun,
its eyes seemed numbed, as visitors
gifted it with bananas and other foods...
was the monkey bored?
tired of watching people come and go?
day in, day out?
what if it rains? it has no roof above its head...
where does it sleep?
i wondered why, from the door jamb
where i stood, there exists
another door, smaller upon sight,
and another...and another...and another....
i was accosted by an endless series of doors...
what lies at the end?
is there an end to these succession of doors?
what could be its purpose?
i wondered about that reason....
i wondered...why the pathways
ahead, left side, and right,
involved going high, then low,
so you go up, then down...
you get used to its rhythm,
to the practice of going up, then down,
holding your breath,
grasping for a post to hold on to,
if and when you lose your balance...
you assume on what is to follow,
you are about to take a step forward
and you'll be surprised....your next step,
...............could be fatal....
you would expect a set of steps going down...
but, there are none...you're inches away
from the end of the ledge.....you stare
at the ground....from where you stand
......there's nothing there
........just an assumed fall..
............if you had been a fool...
these temples, with countless, endless
steps and doors, radiate with wisdom,
offered to us...right in front of our faces..
we just have to be keen...be perceptive...
be able to discover...and learn, before a fall
occurs...
i walked away from these walls and stairs,
tired...sweating...my knees aching......but,
with my wonderings............waning......
Sally
Copyright January 31, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 10:41 PM UTC
My small hut of dreams
surviving all alone atop of hill
covered all around with huge deodar trees
of muddy wall and slanting roof sill
Ginger and cardamom tea
near the orange fire place
reading journals
I will live , capturing the first snow in days
freshly baked potato in oven clay
sprinkled rock salt with melted cheese
fragrant leaves of corainder
lingers on and stays
sweet and sour taste of wine
from the close by farm of grapes
friends and family gather everynight
over dinner and United prays
bells echoing mystery in the air
far from the temples on a difficult mountain
where path to heavens looks reachable
trekking the rocks in sun and in rain
Manisha
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 4:24 AM UTC
where we live
in our temples
we light lanterns
so many plants,
gathered and dried
placed carefully
smoldering
the rising smoke
allows us to see the low
trembling
more pervasive than a wind
a bounty of your spirit
enlivening, riotous,
and your own universe
of kindness
we can never know what to expect
but we like what we are hearing
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC