Friday, September 24, 2010

On the blood soaked alter

On the blood soaked alter

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On the blood soaked alter

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Council of People's Commissars of the sownar.com
On the blood soaked alter
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MASS WASTINGClouds of rancidincense chokeancient widowswho dutifully offer their mitefor the Bishop s vacationOn the blood soaked alterbelow a fetishrepresenting a corpsenailed to a treea pink and plump cherubimguilt vestedadvises the congregationto more faithfully imitateIn the back pew I gladly exude a billow of flatulencewhich presumably ascends to tarry in the supreme recessesof the vaultingI exit in mid incantationOutsidea street dweller spits out a toothand wipes green slime from his noseSpareaquarterWithout looking at himI pass quickly byand am swallowed into the din of trafficThis spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires greenWild puffing of emerald trees and flame filled bushesThorn blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke betweenWhere the wood fumes up and the watery flickering rushesI am amazed at this spring this conflagrationOf green fires lit on the soil of the earth this blazeOf growing and sparks that puff in wild gyrationFaces of people streaming across my gazeAnd I what fountain of fire am I amongThis leaping combustion of spring My spirit is tossedAbout like a shadow buffeted in the throngOf flames a shadow that s gone astray and is lostNothing is so beautiful as springWhen weeds in wheels shoot long and lovely and lushThrush s eggs look little low heavens and thrushThrough the echoing timber does so rinse and wringThe ear it strikes like lightnings to hear him singThe glassy peartree leaves and blooms they brushThe descending blue that blue is all in a rushWith richness the racing lambs too have fair their flingWhat is all this juice and all this joyA strain of the earth s sweet being in the beginningIn Eden garden Have get before it cloyBefore it cloud Christ lord and sour with sinningInnocent mind and Mayday in girl and boyMost O maid s child thy choice and worthy the winningA little madness in the SpringIs wholesome even for the KingBut God be with the ClownWho ponders this tremendous sceneThis whole Experiment of GreenAs if it were his ownSpring for all the crazinessdeath I find I m still in lovewith among others myselfO adventurers would findme boring as they venture up their mountainI m nowhere near their trail stillspring courses through melike a fifth cup of coffeein an hourI walk monoxide sidewalkssearching for something in the windows to redeemmy idle habits mere objectshave never held me for long unlessthey have meaning to engage my witotherwise they re just someone else s elevatorsgoing up to a price tagI m not willing to pay The trafficyours trulyalways has had a mind of its own that honkswhen it thinks it s rightDo I ignore responsibility  We can think we doEverything that is done to by for usWell we can choose the moon It entersour lives on such a regular basiswe nearly take itfor  graniteThen one nightmuch like any other except it s this nightunder this deepening blue skywith all its bright twinkling thissesThe  moonappearsbig palecrescent yellowjust above the hillreflecting off electric skyscraper windowsEverything I feel tells meHonk what is distancewhen Spring is coursing throughFor winter s rains and ruins are overAnd all the season of snows and sinsThe days dividing lover and loverThe light that loses  the night that winsAnd time remembered is grief forgottenAnd frosts are slain and flowers begottenAnd in green underwood and coverBlossom by blossom the spring beginsI sing of brooks  of blossoms  birds  and bowersOf April  May  of June  and July flowersI sing of Maypoles  Hock carts  wassails  wakesOf bridegrooms  brides  and of their bridal cakesin Justspring when the world is mudluscious the littlelame balloonmanwhistles far and weeThe sun was warm but the wind was chillYou know how it is with an April dayWhen the sun is out and the wind is stillYou re one month on in the middle of MayBut if you so much as dare to speakA cloud comes over the sunlit archA wind comes off a frozen peakAnd you re two months back in the middle of MarchSpring  the sweet spring  is the year s pleasant kingThen blooms each thing  then maids dance in a ringCold doth not sting  the pretty birds do singCuckoo  jug jug  pu we  to witta wooSpring is a miraculous experienceThe whole world comesalive after the winter in whichit seemed that everything was deadThe world comes filledwith color and the scentof delicious greeneryThe world that seemed so dulland cold has comealive once againLittle did we knowthat beneath the cold hardground the plants and treeswere preparing for rebirthSpring gives us hope for rejuvenationin our own lives as wellSpring is a time to renewthe excitement and zestfor life that lives insideSpring songSinging liquid notesIn the green bud treeA willow warblerWelcomes the sun on the old wallIts song melts awayThe long grey winterSing of sweet hopeLet no late frostStop its trilling throatWaterLight spills on the tablethrough glasssurprised to find itselffocusedby waterwater cleans  heals  quenchesraises life from dustFebruaryalready  prim snowflakesmeld into murmuring watersmelling of springthe season of kissesDark denialoutweighed by hatchling downswept awayon a passionate raindropThe bluff March wind set out from homeBefore the peep of dayBut nobody seemed to be glad he had comeAnd nobody asked him to stayYet he dried up the snow banks far and nearAnd made the snow clouds rollHuddled up in a heap  like driven sheepWay off to the cold North PoleHe broke the ice on the river s backAnd floated it down the tideAnd the wild ducks came with a loud  Quack  quackTo play in the waters wideHe snatched the hat off Johnny s headAnd rolled it on and onAnd oh  what a merry chase it ledLittle laughing and scampering JohnHe swung the tree where the squirrel layToo late in its winter bedAnd he seemed to say in his jolly wayWake up  little sleepy headHe dried the yard so that Rob and TedCould play at marbles thereAnd he painted their cheeks a carmine redWith the greatest skill and careHe shook all the clothes lines  one by oneWhat a busy time he hadBut nobody thanked him for all he had doneNow wasn t that just too badI know a little maidenShe is very fair and sweetAs she trips among the grassesThat kiss her dainty feetHer arms are full of flowersThe snow drops  pure and whiteTimid blue eyed violetsAnd daffodillies brightShe loves dear Mother NatureAnd wanders by her sideShe beckons to the birdlingsThat flock from far and wideShe wakes the baby brookletsSoft breezes hear her callShe tells the little childrenThe sweetest tales of allHer brow is sometimes cloudedAnd she sighs with gentle graceTill the sunbeams  daring lovers
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