Living the Dream

Lip to bowl, tongue cling to rim.
Bitter bark, the light grows dim.
Mangy minstrel bows his greasy head,
hooks for hands finger bow and bed.
A spinning death, toes tapping tile,
wild wet hair and gruesome smile,
nail bent moon scratches skin,
skeleton stars, blink at sin.

An egg, pulses in fragile shell,
oval surface reflects the hell.
High in branches of the oak,
black preens with tongue-lick stroke.
Death beneath the dervishes dance,
fiddler and feline here by chance.
A coursing woman, honey for blood,
throws herself upon casting mud

Pierce and tap, grunt and grind,
malicious shadows seem not to mind.
Tumbling, mouse-like, caught in trap,
purge and pain procedure’s snap
the ooh an ahh of silver spoon
starts again the monthly moon.
What cost is this, a long lost tribe?
A jest of god, a practiced jibe?

A slithered sin, an emptied bowl,
a slipped kit, a foundered foal,
a journey’s possibility ends right here
beneath the spotlight and the fear.
Choice is made, though choice be none,
a darklingly daughter, a simple son,
nail on chalkboard, squeal of brakes
a simple push is all it takes.

A bowl of Cohosh , a hemlock sip.
a gaping wound, a loss of grip.
It is freed, in screeching toil,
upon the rocks and hellish soil.
Moon-faced curve, red with sorrow.
Gone the bone of good tomorrow.
Empty now, the dance is done,
the fiddler fiddles with the sun.

Tags: Poems //