May | 2015 | resurrecting the trashcan bard

outside its hailing chunks of cold combustible coal

the unicorns just sacrificed their last born foal

inside the cave i sit cutting open diamonds

to drink their forbidden fuel of the ill omened

with my golden serrated sickle that weighed down a scroll

i found at the foot of a cross on a grassy knoll

poisoned i stagger to the caves entrance

to watch the night sky caving into silence

so many folk are emigrating these days to heaven

they’ve taken up the deadliest sins in lots of seven

now they’ve proclaimed heavens open twenty four seven

under the protection of a sand weathered umbrella shield

i slosh my way to a tourist lookout of a thermal field

i gaze down into the valley of the living city grave yard

where xrayed bones still walk around clothed in fashionable skin unscarred

line up to board the phallic rocket ark that will leave Finite

carrying them souls to Infinity where they’ll feel no contrite

those egotistical high fools who know not the reason not to transcend

as for me i wish to see this Apocalypse through to the sunny end

back within the cave i swing my golden sickle in rhythm as i commune

by whistling the scrolls resurrecting rhythmic ancient mystic hymn tune

for i must free the fossil dragon who disappeared into this cave

many moons ago before the moon disappeared into the nights concave

like a messiah turning the other cheek from Saturn’s betraying suns wave

my exertion causes me to breathe in deeply intoxicating snored air

vinegar tears flow causing mud slides down my dusty masked face of despair

when i remember the sweetly scented garden that caught the savior in its snare

where grey young and old prophets all revealed to me their tales

their rancid mouths opened to let out their frightening gales

bout angelic monsters and demons climbing from under my manger bed

to plunder and divide the undead souls of the Finite as it is read

leaving the Finite to burn within a fiery oven devoid of bread

leaving but a feature less unclaimed landscape of dusts and ash

as a scorched sterile paradise and gods everlasting rash

when i had passed out barely had i tickled the caves arid throat

now i wake in a tunnel to see beyond the morn air a dragon float

whose baptismal fire breath now enlightens half of Finite’s darkened drowned land

now i need to learn how to spin the balanced Finite by my calloused hand

resurrecting the trashcan bard