Riding On The Wings Of Lemmings Poem by Chris Zachariou

Damn propriety,
I want you in my bed tonight.

Take off your long black skirt,
unbutton your pristine blouse
and I shall crawl inside you
like a beast possessed.

My beauty queen,
come with me and come with me,
let's soar up to the purple sky.

Oh me, oh my, oh my!
where did you learn all that?
Where is that shy butterfly
I loved once so much.

Look at that crack in the water.
It's the gateway to the monsters
at the bottom of the sea—
an open door to a giant dance hall.

The deviant God and all his servants
—some beautiful but all deformed—
all are dressed in see-through flimsy gowns.
They drink wine that's sour
and sway to the beat of a disfigured tango.

They shed their skins—
beasts, chimaera, and serpents.
Hissing, they jeer and chase us.

Honey clouds and blue skies,
rampant seas and wanton shorelines,
all embrace in an orgy of love.

In a trance, we leap into the abyss
riding on the wings of lemmings—
only you and I know the truth:
one day a lemming is going to fly.

Free at last, we press beyond the edge.
We join a massive love-in, morality is
forbidden and probity is scorned.