They may come and go says Samael, so sayeth the wiccan prince who some say too ushers in hell, but hell is reserved for the iniquitous and the evil, where tortured until they are ash, is the only white steeple, the comely few who verily detest when mothball mouths are not cottonmouth bassets the silly strummed up wheat, which pervades the day when the heat is nigh on noon complete, the southern seer, grampy to some, has black boys and girls this Samael sung.
Spunky Cottonmouth
plops into the black river.
He winds towards my boat.
sad and lonely inside, like a hollowed tooth with cyanide
groaning and bemoaning about the market, the trade, the money in his bank, thats who mr cottonmouth is
a very rich man with a house in his south
who whines and pouts, while others put his fires out
his tongue is long and split, with two little twins that drip
be careful, if you work for him don't trip, don't make him flip
he'll rip the stage, and try to mend the page
with the same greed that would make your mouth go dry
and like an animal, crass
or a poor child cornered in class
if you ask, why he basks so in the glow of his so called foes
he'll say its me or them, i deserve better than their pen, while he bawls and points, at the street
but if confronted with any form of the truth, it's almost comically as if theres a little cute cat, holding his silvered tongue, straight to the roof
he'll start to mold, his mouth like a snakeskin wallet that can't fold
filled with unpaid bills
but his voice won't go shrill, or squeak, he's adamant you see
that it was "them or me", refusing to believe
that he has soured all the nuts, giving them an awful bitter smell
Some days I want to be a star
or a diamond or a diamond back snake
or a cottonmouth or a cottonwood tree
other days I want to be a squirrel
chattering and chittering as I chase my friends
around the elm tree, over the stump, under the bridge
Today I want to be a garden hose
Possibly because it is over one hundred degrees here.
in the Everglades there are dangers galore
alligators, crocs, rattlesnakes, and many more….
a cottonmouth aka water moccasin would scare me back to my car
could be bitten by a brown recluse, looking for its violin scar
baby florida panther might entice me with his blue eyes
here comes mama cougar all grown, what an unfortunate surprise!
Burmese python is coming quickly to constrict out my lunch
It is too late to run, I know this is more than a hunch
a red snake, how delightful, uh-oh, I see his fluorescent yellow
I know now he is an eastern coral, a most venomous fellow
where are the black bears? Would they save me? Do you know?
I have heard they only eat plants and garbage litterbugs throw
Is that an alligator or a crocodile? Dare I get near its weird hump?
oh, yes, it’s the big one, so it’s a croc, and they can both jump!
I hear a rattling, and know I am about to be some animal’s lunch
Florida swamps are dangerous. This is more than a hunch.
Sluggish swamp water seeps through cypress knee
Looking for the reclusive crocodiles now infesting,
Our air boat skims along the edge of Okeefenochee
Where we spy a prehistoric-like alligator ingesting
What appears to be an unwary otter or fox squirrel
Our guide points out a log laden with sunning turtles
With the reptiles in the swamp, we have no quarrel,
As accelerating our speed, the air boat soon hurtles
Until we reach a fairly secluded lush-covered glade
Hoping to see a cottonmouth searching for prey,
After considerable time in the sun, loving the shade
Unfortunately, for the snake the wrong time of day.
Our lunch is ham sandwiches and a frosty cold beer
As our guide points out a meadow-like field ahead,
Where we’ll likely see a smaller herd of mule deer
And, there the ravishing crocodiles waiting to be fed.
Written June 22, 2022
Striking like a cottonmouth snake,
but we can see nothing is real;
Bored and trying to stir the pot,
that plan is going to backfire;
As honest as a soft handshake
with your fingers crossed on the deal;
Slippery hiss within earshot,
You are just a filthy liar.
Snow melting, icicles dripping from the eave
Hint that winter’s frigid air may soon leave,
Replaced by warm breezes from the south
In swampy bayous return the cottonmouth.
When mulberry buds are ready to burst
Buttercups turn upward like they thirst,
My lawn will glow with sweet dandelions
In nature the colors change like chameleons,
Spring flowers present as a lovely bouquet
While the hibernating animals come to play.
The meadowland beckons me for a stroll
And a newness of spirit refreshes my soul.
written January 19, 2022
submitted to "A STRAND" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Brian Strand
cottonmouth slithers
'gator eyes unwary prey
an untimely death
written January 3, 2022
That iceberg epidermal cold wasn’t skin mythical
Mean vanilla bean uttering
was hardwood cord,
like a pirate plank board
Arctic words, cryo breath abominable —
Crystalline cruel viper vapor
violently falling like blizzard snow
Sub-zero white noise,
so cottonmouth cold-blooded,
is middle finger digital flooded
Building virulent cell blocs of ICE
at an igloo separation insane, inhumane price
Listen to the avalanche wind
dog whistling
Feral language twas cold Siberian
Abominable Snowman
loves speaking haughty Himalayan
Yeti frostbite send
is how the ICE Age extinction began
Such an Ivory behemoth clone
with a detestable heart tone,
so pachyderm pulse bitter cold to the bone
Seeking a Caucasian occasion
to angrily sound the Aryan alarm
That code blue-eye speech: Antarctica chill sensation
got cadaver cold, flatline charm
And the snow globe tears ain’t melting,
while the icy fear remains frozen
Abominable Snowman
frostily says, color blind fools
ain’t got a Hades snowball chance
Yeti still don’t demise know,
a warm aurora glow
was rainbow halo sent in advance
It was a cottonmouth they said.
I pictured a dentist pushing a bunch of cotton in my mouth.
After they had put my gums through torture.
“I hate cottonmouths” I said.
“I didn’t think you knew what they were,” my mother replied.
“You take me to one once a year, don’t you?” I wailed.
My mother’s friend gave my mother a strange look and rushed away.
It was years before I understood why.
Forklift tongue ...
snaky false pallet walk
be a paralyzing pulse dead stop
Viper lung flung from the bottom rung,
slithering slyly to the bury top
Pentagram aborted delivery —
Fake salvation
is morgue bad news
bifurcated breath received
Cottonmouth spitting graveyard shifty
labor blues,
Exhaling extortion sin wage scale dues
Forklift tongue
belly rolls across a serpentine cargo corpse bay
Anaconda pallet walk
got a hangman’s boa rope choke swinging sway
Winter beholds
for Autumn does not yield-
bare trees none the less
Late at night
I lay in the swamp
Waiting for Jesus
My Pa told me that the swamp
Is where he lives
That a copperheads mouth
Is like the Mona Lisa’s face
And a cottonmouth never strikes twice
Now I don’t worry much about the gators
They don’t eat nothing bigger than a dog
So I’m ok laying here drunk in a foot of water
Singing old country songs
The Spanish moss swings in the breeze above me
An a screech owl cries out in the night
Cypress knees all around me
Makes me think of legs wrapped up in mud
And when Jesus comes I’ll be ready
To meet my maker under this canopy
Because if God ever lived anywhere
He lived here in Metairie.
hand on back
drilled smile
he milks me
from behind
vote Monty
mochadoodle
moo
9/20/12
Black Eyed Susan
for nette's "septolet the puppet" contest
fabric: drill – double meaning of practice and durable twill cotton (also, cottonmouth refers to a dangerous snake as well as "an uncomfortable condition that feels as if your mouth is coated with cotton. http://www.ehow.com/how_8412538_fix-cottonmouth.html#ixzz278lYPjBG)
flavor: mochadoodle – not kidding! it's a flavor of coffee: milk chocolate, cinnamon, and hazelnut
(Monty is a made up senator - referring to the expression "the fully monty" - meaning everything that is expected or possible)
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