Archive for August, 2013

Theological Musing Study Final

Theological Musings Final by Rod C. Stryker

Tore a rent

in reality today

and pulled out

all those prophets, gods

and semi-divine beings

that have been pestering

our fickle faiths

into the light of day

so they could

settle things amongst


I figured it

would spare

us lowly mortals

some grief

and give us a much

needed reprieve

from genuflection, sermons,

swearing and penitence;

as well as jihads,


and sacrifices;

not to mention deep-seated

resentments based

solely on a difference

of belief.


Once the supreme ones


I threw them back into the void

bloodied and maimed,

their divinity faded,


And for the first time,

we looked upon

one another

w/new eyes,

new hearts.

And began the

journey towards




Rod C. Stryker

This is an older piece. Seems it’s still applicable to today’s religious issues. Hope you like it.



Laying those clothes of cynicism


I enjoy that special feeling of

freedom in my birthday suit.

Happy times ahead dusted

 with sparkling sentiment

     offer me little choice

      but to feel good

  and retain my sexual

  high for a

   better world,

    a better day.

   And against my

    darker thoughts,

my better judgment,

        I experience a finer fitted feeling

      in your eyes,

your smile.

 And the power of love’s

  silken embrace on

     your naked lips.



Rod C. Stryker

This is an older poem. Hope you like it.

photo by Aaron Harewood

photo by Aaron Harewood

     And you decided to

 name him great;

        on a par with even God.

    Given to daily feats

of epic verse,

while prone to acts

    of leather and pain

   that you were too ready to ignore

       for a small glimpse of his world,

    his heaven.

        But when the years passed

   and his wonders were made flesh,

his divine aura shone

    less and less

      and the beatings nagged for

 your attention more and more.

  And then one day quite suddenly,

  you woke to find where

  once stood your idol,

existed your father,

 and by the tell-tale

scars on your face,

      a too human man.


Rod C. Stryker

I grew up a victim of child abuse at the hands of my father. As a child, I escaped into my head (my pretend world) and did everything I could to be invisible, to avoid the abuse. I discovered the religion/faith/spirituality of poetry and self-expression and it, along with my very patient wife, Sabina, saved me. This poem was my way of acknowledging my father’s abuse for what it was. I will no longer hide the abuse or the abuser. And my hope is that this piece may help others who struggle as well.

Syrian_Israel demilitarized zone     

Yes, I raged at the news,

  bombs in baby cribs,

      oil fires in the desert.

     And the murder of children

labeled mushrooms.

     Still I loved your smile in

  the bomb shelter,

      the play of your eyes in the


        I know joy when I hold

  you as the fighters

thunder overhead.

And I commit my love

       to you

     by the light

of the burning chapel.



Rod C. Stryker

This poem was published in the anthology, Will Work for Peace. Hope you like it.

Mayan Blues Final

                                                                                       Mayan Blues Final by Rod C. Stryker

The sixty-five
parables of depression
are stamped on my forehead,

down my cheeks,
splash, stain and play
among the cotton
threads of
my white shirt,

drive my resentment
through to Mexico
and stop long enough
to pick up

amongst the cactus.

A motley group,
we pay fares and bribes

until our arrival
at misty temples
and dejected fables


sacrifice and Mayan priests
joking of mass murder
and temperate weather patterns.


Rod C. Stryker

This poem and art photograph was published in Lucid Affairs (Sun Arts Press). If you’d like to get a copy, click here:

CityScapes Study

Cityscapes Study by Rod C. Stryker

A child screams

into an August

city night.

   Footfalls echo

in the street.

   Sirens holler at

the depression

of an excited


  quick to glance

      there and here

while touching the

   steams anger.

       A holy chime


    gives rise to

       uncensored belongings,

 rectifies the righteous

       in their efforts

    to remain at

 peace. Pain settles

       this disquiet

    thunder of the

 pale moon.

       The screams stop.

   A window breaks

   the city’s back

   and runs away




Rod C. Stryker

This is an older poem. This will also appear in my forthcoming book, Native Instincts. Hope you like it.

King George's Angel Embrace Final I

King George’s Angel Embrace Final by Rod C. Stryker

It must

discourage the angel

that enfolds you,

holds you,

to watch these crimes

explode around you,

confounds her wings

in blood and rage.

A wink and a kiss

spark a flame

between guardian

and monarch


in exquisite

acts of contrition

pirouetted amongst

the bodies and souls.

Your angel’s tears

play taps

as your bombs

gouge craters

in sweet disaster.

You fan the flames

that singe her wings

against skies

rolling in

smoke and betrayal.

The burning flesh

smells like heaven

to you.

Long live the king.


Rod C. Stryker

This poem and art photograph were published in my current book, Lucid Affairs (Sun Arts Press). If you’d like to get a copy, click here: