poem-Carrion Feast!

carrion feast
I will feast on carrion comfort
I will feast without utensils
For the dark night of the soul has set
A table for me complete with pencil
To catalogue all that I digest
I have crept furtively into your dining hall
The one you call Holy
And know the fruits on my plate
Will bring death, but yours are gall
and so
Call me Hyena
Call me Vulture
Call me Hyena
Say I falter
But you will not tell me
What I eat.
Rather I feast on carrion comfort
And chew with mouth agape
Than sit at your table of forbidden fruit
And suffer eternity in wait
For the scraps at your jealous lord’s foot
I have tasted the salt of my own starving tongue
As I obeyed your god
'Sit, Slave, be good, be calm
Eat when I say it's time,'
Which it shall never be.
Call me Hyena
Call me Vulture
Call me Hyena
Say I falter
But you will not tell me
What I eat.
What decayed matter is this,
That I eat to-night
On the dark hours exists
A hunger, a plight
Does this dish of death spell "weak"
Weak to eat what's at one's feet
To entertain the tray--
what decayed matter is it
that I now masticate
In my hours of darkest
Desperation, I say
Does this morbid meal spell "frail"
Frail with imperfect fatigue
You entertained the tray--
Ask your god
did he not
make me this way?

(c)2010 LuzBriar

poem-Swine!

Swine

You are not everywhere,

Not in every hellbitten scowl

Not in every forced call

You never laid a finger on me

I’ve no hoof-shaped bruises, anyway.

How you spared the rod

In favor of your Acid

Hear my ungrateful whine?

Swine!

The scheming face of swine!

No I will not see a boar’s visage

On the strangers strolling by

But your squealing still is with me…

The way you could strike down

The inner light of a child

Is surely impressive but I will

Not commend you

On your handiwork, as I recall

Shiny, shiny new things

And the marble eyes

Of a mounted buck. Should’ve been

Swine!

Swine, telling me to eat my bile.

And though it’s a fable of a fault…

For such things I still apologize…

But the lessons, warped in their glory, still linger with me.

I am not omnipotent

I know not whether you believe

The slop in your wine glass is new

Ironic how a pig’s opinions

Still hold value…

Swine!

And though I’ll cup my ears

To the squealing

The noise reverberates from inside.

Inside! Inside! Inside!

(c)LuzBriar 2008.

poem-Pancake!

Pancake!
At times I'm fairly certain, I'm a pancake on record-player.
Before they've drawn　the curtain, my mask runs in layers.
Too late I've discovered, that I was pending erroneously.
I waited in the wrong cupboard, with the sugars and sweet tea.
Thought my bleat was frail, and that this is why the flock shunned me,
Until I realized I had not failed.　I 　was merely their black sheep.
So instead of bleaching a coat, and looking like a misfit
I must shrug and forget their gloat, for I was not stubborn or dishonest.
Just as you need vinegar, and darkness pitch
You need me, sugar. And you need me, light, admit!
At times I'm rather certain, I'm the piece of a different design, my friend.
Before you close the curtain, ask where your 'hero' is without his 'villain'.

A Song for Joy: from "Demoniac"

a Poem to Joy
Her name was Joy for she smiled wide smiles
Wide as the sky, as a little child
But when she bore a babe they would sigh and die
Poor joy was dejected; she cried and cried
Until keepers came to throw and tote
Joy into the madhouse with her woe, not to let her out
So endless tears could fall and fall
Out of our sight behind walls and walls

(from my "Demoniac" book. Go on, ask me about it!)
 (c)2010 me.

Vestal, Village: art & poem

"Faith"

Vestal, Village

"Vestal, the village
The village, go there
And take the heads of four villagers in the square
Do this for four months
Vigorously
And do not ask why
This I command of thee."

But, Vesta, this is not in my vows
Why would I sever innocent crowns
"Because I say to do so now
Should you disobey, my wrath rains down"

They are still living then
After the severing
The blood trail
Behind my sandals
Some of their tears,
Mingling
My goddess, the heads still cry
And yet they do not curse my soul

"The faces forever cry
Because, again, I say so."
(c)2010 LuzBriar (HollieHolmes)