Bookraft

The weather has been seriously disturbing -
and it seems to have crept into some of my poems:

Summer Sumac

Sumac greens scarred with crimson pyramids
Wave languidly in humid listings
Like mythic Aztec scarlet offerings,
Mounds of paroxsystic perversity
Only the most High of Inquisitors would want to know.

Sumacs sashay in lazy sweltering updrafts
Not the brisk, directional breezes of barometer's fluxes
But rather the torpor of heat reseating itself yet again
-Breeding malcontent to the broiling point
Or just overswarming with the stuff of stifled suppression.

Sumacs of the summer construe heated hallucinations -
What Deities Darwinian or Orthodox
Conjure up such mirages of such malignancy ?
What hellfire survival imperative
Would make such a mindfill of such misanthropy ?
.

Loki Raced

Loki raced across Northumberlands scape
From the shore of Ajax on the Lake
Dancing with impish delightning strike-steps
Stomping with thunderbold clods
Clang snapping with lashes of rain pellets
All in his merry mercenary sway
All the harrowing way to the hills of Gatineau.

Loki mocked pranced 100 Wotan footsteps a second
Gray and soot sullying to the Teutonic Himmel
Crash crushing limbs and boughs in twisted whims.

Loki licked and lured in his own funevil way.
.

Blue and Musty Melanie
or
Look What They Done to My Song Ma

A reverberating melody lingers in my head
Just scratched by the pawnshop blue and musty album cover
The rhythms and beats stream out 40 decades long
In a plaintive cry-song that bends like trees to tornadic winds
Fierce, angry, humid thunderstorm drummed lashings
Shiver striking and then lashing out yet again in melancholy melody
-Look what they done to my my song Ma.

(c)JBSurveyer 2006