Saturday, October 5, 2013

Don Kingfisher Campbell


You are a ghoul
in the graveyard
of my past life
The siren who took my soul
with magic potion lips
and black cat sounds
Am I being an ogre
to remind you of the spell
that once spooked both our spirits
We were like bats
fluttering above the zombies
soaring on a warlock’s broomstick
Now I'm no better than a ghost
rattling my chains to bemoan
what sank in the quicksand
I'd rather be an imp
putting you in an iron maiden
to revive our skeletons
Instead I limp along like a mutant
wishing he had his banshee back
to spin illusion again
But come to think of it
you actually were a witch
wearing a black widow
Who sank her fangs into my heart
to bleed to death my dream
we would have an afterlife
There is no chance of a phoenix here
because you are the phantasmal wraith
and I poisoned spider in a dungeon
So I guess I'll bury our chimera
which turned out to be a squonk without
a demon's chance at reincarnation
And carry a torch into my skull
wherein lies the specter of a relationship
like cobwebs in a catacomb

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