“Los Diablos Bailan”
Beating grass for snakes.
Cobras of passion slide in dark holes.
Heavy moist heat of future deaths fill my lungs.
Barbaric splendor, ocher painted skulls dance in tree limbs.
Dance Mother FUCKER! Dance! Scream Hamadryad Baboons.
Sweat pours off my frame, beating grass to shaman rhythms.
Slake my thirst in peyote’s fire, Lightning bolts run down my veins.
Hoooo Yaaaaahhhh I am dancing, around a bloody tree of fate.
Mayan faces, Laotian smiles, Bantu eyes, Norse Hands, reach for my corpuscles.
I am riding La Espina de Diablos. Barbed wire in my head.
Slapping my feet on frozen clay river beds, smoking dinosaur bones of thought.
I hear snakes chasing my soul down dark holes.
Weeping bloody tears I dance under a tree of skulls.
Looking for absolution in dead empires.
I am an executioner, I have killed my heart, on Quetzalcoytls granite altar
Giving my meat, my bones for others to eat.
Lady Lovitar Goddess of Ice rimed hell, welcome me…
Take my flayed skin, give it to Hindu priest to make a scroll.
I want to ride Water Dragons to Hopi heaven.
Let her memory go.
- El Final -
(c)-DS Baker
Submitted by dbaker on 5 June 2007 - 9:53pm.| Updated 12 April 2008 - 8:39am.
Style / Type:
freeform
(3 votes)
Awed.
This poem is just great. It evoked all the primeval power of lust, passion and spirituality. Then the last line just floored me. Ignore Schilling on this one (he really knows his poetry but not much else I think, sorry Schilling) Oh man, anyone not blinded by religious dogma and with the ability to see a deep passionate honesty must be deeply moved by this. look forward to more of your work.
Cheers
Weirdelf
a lot of good stuff here ...
although my favorite of favorite phrases in this piece happens to be “smoking dinosaur bones of thought”
thanx
Hell yeah...
Hell yeah, you know yo have written a good agro poem when you can get the your blood pumping, and this certinatly does, the only thing I would suggest is to spell out mother fucker, insted of “mother FU$3ER”,I think it distracts even though everyone knows what it means, we had a fourm about censorship, the concensus was that it is not in the best interest of the site
Well strick me Awe
Well said stern,’I am an executioner ,I have killed my heart’.
In ink,
David
Thank you so very much...
I am sorry in my very, very slow reply. I wrote this about letting go of the pain, of the memory, of someone who meant the world to you.
It was one of those poems that you pray for, but seldom have. I took me something like five minutes to write. When somemthing has to come out…it has to come out.
Pax My Friends!
-DS Baker