The Phantoms
Here they come, on they go,
One by one, in a row,
misanthropic phantoms
Drifting by me on the street...
snuffed candelabrums….
No warmth to meet…
Incense del Dia de Muertos
evanesced from the vigil,
Gregarious as gargoyles
to greet
Whilst they all a waltzin’ thru my peripheral
Yet always on their passin’ but a chill I feel,
All secrets hushed and skeletons concealed;
A brood of bad bananas, rude & unpeeled…
Where’ve you been?
Where’d you dwell?
Bless me your heaven.
Confess me your hell.
I yearn to turn you over like a stone,
Cruise your e’ery crevice, flesh ‘n’ bone;
Kick down the catacomb,
a floriferous frisson
Up your pithless spine
to startle your tomb
W/ a sunflower bloom;
Veins fomented for the finest wine
to flow;
Drawing agape the dreary drape
‘til we’re both aglow,
Grinnin’ happy-go-lucky like children again
Lavished in the light of Lothlorien,
once latent,
Now incandescent in the distance...
And when we’ve basked
Our fill of social sustenance,
Our souls exquisite as bloodstones
and its subsequent dookie
Buried in the kitty litter of time,
Let’s make like Mickey and Mallory Knox,
Freed from society’s sepulchral pantomime,
And hop the next train
right out of town,
No
strings
attached.