The Iconoclast

I am

the Iconoclast

I might

smash your idols to bits and pieces

or reveal fallacies in your cherished beliefs

I 

bow my head to no divinity

or an orgy of anthropomorphic deities

I

do not engage in

a mass delusion of superstitions

black cats, number 13 or clairvoyant visions

I

frown upon

the accuracy

of tattered heap of ancient history

to adhere them for granted

is foolishness in its zenith

Beware when

graced with my presence

My tongue

knows no bound

between the sacred and the profane