Knights of the nebula pond?
Kingdom Gone, return.
Witch and wizard, wave thy wand!
Tamarind taciturn...
Knight errant by lightning struck?
O for help to call!
Cult black magic, I've got truck!
Luck, best drop that ball.
Stuck with indecision?
O plight of prisoner.
Seeress, here is worst vision!
Reality, blur!
Chained atop the atoll wild?
Mother, stillborn child.
Young lovers unreconciled.
Slaughterhouses tiled.
Mild, art thou, O fickle Fate?
Helpful is such hate!
Intellect, be not ingrate!
Gold, go to the gate...
Wait a second, Fortune.
In what hole ought I fill?
Tomb of pharaoh? Trick or tune?
Boon, how to pay bill?
Where then to dig? Why split my wig?
Swine, bequeath to pig!
O dark matter, space is big?
I don't give a fig!
Garden lost from ancient times?
Wind, rattle those chimes.
O for boxes about mimes.
Drop upon, my dimes...
Mariners immemorial?
Land ho? Not just yet.
Ergo, editorial?
Poisonous thy pet.
Forget? O river Lethe, thy sheath!
Belladonna, bequeath?
Mistletoe, art best in wreath?
Hollyhock, thy heath...
The Sheep are nearly to the gate
but seem to wait, their shepherd’s late,
some are bleating loudly now,
others grazing, humbly bow
some are wandering far away
Shepherd unaware they stray
some seem to blame the lowing cows
caravanning from the south
escaping slaughterhouses foul
her calves are bleating weakly now
mother, tired, licks their brow
hoping shepherds from the North
will meet them kindly with food and work
she doesn't see the sharp pitchforks
and what these shepherds have in store..
When words fail me, my shadow will trail me:
A meandering silhouette.
Numerous adventures , we will embark upon
No words will be spoken!
Naturally!
Or unnaturally!
Countries vast with barren lands
Betwixed black chimneyed cottages and
Windswept oceans.
On winged birds, we will fly
Undulating to the wind.
We will look down
And take note of delicate webs
That both the humans and spiders span.
Webs of lace. Webs of networks!
Fragile emotions perfumed
With bitter sweet lotions
Of course I won't have words
To describe these!
In images they will be inscribed.
Beguiled smiles, and veiled eyes.
In stones.
Carved with a scintillating sword.
And corpses: savagely occurred.
In landfills. Cemeteries. And slaughterhouses.
We will pray; my shadow and I
That there will be no more of these
Corpses to come: the savage kinds!
Both of living beings or shattered dreams!
Not in words, shall we pray but
In scents and images and other senses!
When Words Fail Me
When words fail me, my shadow will trail me:
A meandering silhouette.
Numerous adventures , we will embark upon
No words will be spoken!
Naturally!
Or unnaturally!
Countries vast with barren lands
Betwixed black chimneyed cottages and
Windswept oceans.
On winged birds, we will fly
Undulating to the wind.
We will look down
And take note of delicate webs
That both the humans and spiders span.
Webs of lace. Webs of networks!
Fragile emotions perfumed
With bitter sweet lotions
Of course I won't have words
To describe these!
In images they will be inscribed.
Beguiled smiles, and veiled eyes.
In stones.
Carved with a scintillating sword.
And corpses: savagely occurred.
In landfills. Cemeteries. And slaughterhouses.
We will pray; my shadow and I
That there will be no more of these
Corpses to come: the savage kinds!
Both of living beings or shattered dreams!
Not in words, shall we pray but
In scents and images and other senses!
Trashcans of intellectual waste
Crushers of recycled ‘truth’
Warehouses of stored lies
Slaughterhouses of unspoken dreams
Hiding behind Ivy walls
Covered with malicious intent
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2013)
Holy Cow!
How? Now? Holy cow!
Tell me. How sacred art thou?
Do the gods dwell in you?
Or have they all said adieu?
Angel wings might bring prestige.
But money does upon greed besiege.
In India cows walk the streets.
While slaughterhouses harvest meats.
Have vegetarians lost their way?
Do they eat beef every day?
“Eat-Steak” restaurants here and there –
People chow down with great flare.
Tell me. Has your halo slipped?
What is in your cream thats whipped?
In big tanks your white is shipped.
Injected hormones, tainted milk.
Cold, refreshing extract sipped.
Dairy productions the billions bilk.
Worship God and not the cow!
Come and eat your great steak now.
That, which was holy long ago,
Has now brought about the chickens motto.
“Come an get your hunger relief.
Do not eat chicken, eat yummy beef!”
© September 26, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
FUN PHOTOS OF HOLY COWS!
1. http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/askville/6666639_30068576_mywrite/holycow2.jpg
2. http://www.cfalawrenceville.com/images/holy_cow.jpg
The change is slowly coming
like murder in the back alley.
It won't be neat or sweet, but
messy, and the moon will reflect in the cardinal pools.
The hand of a stranger wrenching the deepest secrets
from any subdural cavity, flinging the remnants about.
Akin to a drunken neurosurgeon who has a penchant
for psychotic episodes.
The effluvium of dormant limbic activity
reaches the nostrils by way of a ghost's lingering, indecipherable
love melody.
A soulless beggar or a stray dog on my porch
gives reinforcement to the crumbling foundation
that rests before the golden cross.
Cherubs need more grease for the gears that
the bedraggled nobleman has primed for the faustian machine.
Shall the slaughterhouses reopen?
Maybe the banquet should be served on the convex table
complete with
sandwiches made of dust and weeds.
The change brings dirt devils and the clanging
of wind chimes that belt out Beethoven's 9th
with all the glory of any bacchanalia
ever dreamed up by the whims
of peripheral thoughts.
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