I’m a midnight cat, by the name of Obsidian,
eyes golden by candlelight; by day they’re viridian.
As I lay here among my Mistress’s great books,
I am wondering what, for my supper, she’ll cook?
Mistress is a Seer, a Shaman, a Mage and
these books contain magic, spells upon every page.
This map too, is magic, it charts her course;
and shows her every single, natural resource.
For she gathers her herbs and plants for her magic;
to run out of these, for her, would be tragic.
She keeps everyone well, in our kingdom you see;
she even cures folks with extracts from trees!
You see, Nature provides, everything that we need;
though science won’t admit that better medicines, natural be.
There’s Digoxin from Foxglove and Aspirin from Spirea,
Ephedrine from Ephedra, it comes from various wild areas.
Once a nasty old doctor from a neighboring town,
tried hard to stop her from curing our Crown;
she concocted a potion from nature’s best weeds,
now that doctor, for her potions, pays money and pleads.
3-28-2022
Black Cat Poetry Contest
Robert James Liguori
Roasted my back hanging over eaves on a scalding rooftop.
Painted, drove, had sex.
Slowly replaced my blood with a hitest mixture
Of caffeine and ephedrine.
Painted, drove, daydreamed about sex.
Watched the sun burn up the grass from bluedust skies.
Painted, drove, bought girlie mags & read about sex.
Missed the kids, yet was often vexed by their demands when home.
Painted, drove, sucked beers in the dead of night
By the wordprocessor - & wrote about sex.
Learned how to watch girls from the rearview mirrors.
Painted, drove, had friends over & talked about sex.
Bought a house, indentured myself to the year 2020.
Painted, drove, had some more sex.
Lesson One: The path to success is long and thorny.
Lesson Two: Stress and stimulants make me horny.
Resolution: Next year, in matters pertaining to screwing,
My motto will be: "Less thinking, More doing."
Don't laugh - it works:
Wash down 4-5-6
Triple-Strength ephedrine tabs
Follow with a Jolt cola
Chomp down a goodsized chocolate bar
Then chase away its cloying sweetness
With a 4-day old 20 oz. 7-11 coffee,
BLACK.
Later, while speeding down an empty highway
Private demons dancing in your head
Chasing thoughts around
Like the wind chasing dead shards of summer
Through a silver sea of winter clouds,
Radio chattering like a mental patient -
Embellish the chaos
With unbridled daydreams of lurid sex;
Follow with unstructured reflections on one's life unravelling.
Think about anything
Anything to stave off the dark's heavy hand
Pressing the walls as we sleep.
Disremember the last time
Death walked grinning white next to you,
Forget what might be slipping past
Each time you close your eyes.
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