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Tim Sacks Poem
O glorious cavern wrought with pinkish mystery,
Thou, whose puck’ring lips I have dreamt about,
Are the sacred altar of Sodom’s progeny .
How thy sweet effluence is set to rout
When that fearsome beast of mine doth attack
And rend thy cave apart with its purple snout!
Venus’s temple on its hirsute mound
Seems paltry when likened to thy glory.
For to thou alone I am always bound.
It is exclusively in thy quarry
That I seek my precious stones of ordure,
Be they glist’ning moist or dark and hoary.
I shall gulp down thy mellifluous excrement
And wed my soul to its celestial scent!
Copyright © Tim Sacks | Year Posted 2014
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Details |
Tim Sacks Poem
Snakes slither in my veins in lieu of blood.
There is a demon in my eye.
My stomach’s full of stinking mud.
A troll grins gleefully between my thighs.
My fingers form black widow’s legs.
My knees are sculpted from dead men’s skulls.
My toes are those of crows who’ve laid their eggs
Within the cracks of my withered soles.
Upon my shoulders rest two vultures’ nests
Like shambolic, messed epaulets.
A massive ogre sits upon my chest.
He adorns me like a medal on a general’s breast.
I am a tenement
For all the creepy-crawlies
Beneath the firmament
And it drive me up the wallies
That none of them pay rent.
Copyright © Tim Sacks | Year Posted 2014
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