War is Over
Never had I seen a God
‘Til you came in
And I got high, and felt me nearing Paradise.
Then came the war,
And the crown I wore a wreath of majuruana
And squatted in occasional trenches
through long narcotic nights.
Some chieftains granted me their pipes
And the mercenaries came with bayonetted crimson needles.
No, never I have felt the same
To smoke my ashes lit ablaze
With Dionysus' merry flock of fiends.
In the sepulchre of an emerald furnace;
a field of weary faces slumped in hands
such twisted loathsome loneliness,
a throne of wretched downfall.
Aye, let me go from here
enduring as an alien
With all my many tongues to brood
one saving grace near Paradise.
Wednesday, March 10, 2021