.............................................................................. succubus

image by Alva Bernadine ©
 http://www.bernadinism.com/succubus/

prodigals 
madrigals 
Wednesday is a magical week ...


we 
tied yellow ribbons again 
lost track of why 
any color no longer 
has any meaning  
the trees are now bleeding for us 
seeding what's needing 
us to notice  
they keep counting our rituals 
with the hack-sawed 
bone on bone 
Pentecostal host art 
of a soul in a song  

the hate is still there today 
so I thought I would wake up 
to the crow turn 
of mid July Lammas 
in rise tourniquet 
invocation ...

salvation-ists tease me 
their ends burning my bits   
bitten written 
the forage 
of bitter herbs 
is tea and reason 
to keep believing 
in something 
that keeps you ...

ransoms have 
become outlawed 
compassion 
and though 
this wasn't 
explicitly detailed 
we knew to read 
between the lines 
of this guide book ...


it told of what the future holds 
in scaffold rickety leaning learning 
earning lightning bolts into trees  
the mockingbirds find their way 
inside the poem 
hollow cedar greeting Her 
in full frontal last night 
She said take stock and eat 
for I am Summer 
and I am ripe and ready 


I look at Her, a bounteous feast 
and pray, oh Universe 
of plenty foresee me
if I may be so bold  
that I am prey today 
and that Her hunger is old 
and deserving ... 

the rest of the undressed 
poem-percolates prognosis 
purgatory as story, bored  
of well I could have been 
good enough 
but I wasn't, you see ...

my stench 
drew attention 
but didn't cover 
the runs 
and crawls  
of roses 
and walls 
so here I am 
simple 
blood 
waiting 
wading ...


EJR ©