Let’s turn this malice into melody

on

Oh son of Adam, you do
Bring out my evil Eve,
Just one little bite of you
Might be worth a hundred
Falls from heaven. Jesus was a Jew.
Karl and Groucho Marx were, too.

Theirs is a simple history
Devoid of mystery.

Unlike you with your
Blue latitudes
Secret oars, man-o-war
Floating terrors
Into stinging pleasures
No dogma could cage you.
You are the cosmic goo.
Bukkake of the soul
A triple slick shaman hat-trick
The carrot stick on the face
Of every snow job

But Job knew what the Dane deigned
To accept, except when he chose not to
And what oh what would Dante do?

Lambada with Virgil?
Twerk with Faust?
Have dinner with Andre?
Challenge the Black Knight to a joust?

It’s only a flesh wound
Pay no attention to the Id
Behind the curtain

Dorothy did and where
Did that get her? Kansas.

Social media interface is more fucked
Than Mary Magdelene! Not like me.
I’m so unfucked I’m a virgin again,
But I could give birth to a most immaculate
Sin. Sip Sip. Overlap. Undertow.
There’s Nowhere
To go but down.
Or do I mean
Drown? I’m the anti-Ophelia. I can’t swim
Because I can fly. Falcon sharp, my wingspan
albatross wide. My my my… tell me how you
Caught the whale, Jonah, like a tiger
By the tail? My my my… who
Andrea-robertsed our flower mound, and why?
Did the butler do it? Did Gordias screw it?
It’s all knotted and tied.

What’s your alibi?

I want to fill you up.
Dig through your dirt.
Lave your shoreline
Burrow in your priest hole.
Feed your widening noon.
Blind your thousand eyes.

Let that be my crime.

Wake your sleeping giant
On the beach, breathing deep…
Oh so deep. I swoon in all your
Ooze ooze ooze, Gulliver. Baptized
and confirmed. My apples ripening.
My starlings spinning and diving.
No matter where I go, or what I do
I see nothing and no one
But you.

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