Oh Vlad, I Feel So Bad
Now, Vladimir, you've been an unholy pain Impaled by your dark beauty I grow paler paler still Or shouldn't my fingertips glow with crimson red? Perhaps a sharper tooth A cozier bed And then I'll wander through the misty woods My froth of gown is eerie lambent white My chest is heavy and I feel great hunger great thirst But in all the awefilled darkness I am lostDecisions You think to doubt me to tarry with a tryst And oh perhaps I'll nibble on your wrist Look deep into my shining eyes You seem to start You must know my jaws are lunging for your heart Love me or feed me Make a choice Choose now! A warm red wine A briny sweet bouquet An artesian vintage A sticky perrier Pulsating but true A human punch that lets us taste of youAll copyright 1993
What Has Become the Beast of Battle? In a land of bleakness, waiting with the raven, stag and wolf dreams of crosses and of dragons threaten alway to engulf the mind, the distaff and the pagan counterweave Blood spills into wine and into puddles undermining what you would believe Drinking wine for blood or blood for wine philosophies cross a crooked line The sun god rends the heart and laps the blood: for Christ's sake, it becomes spiritual food emblazoned now across a holy rood. But in the darkened alleys, late at night disturbing faiths interpolate the plight of others Veins swollen and throats bare they stroke the dragon Thirsting for a sip of life's arteriel wine Intoxicated by warmth and life and proximity We fall into another world's sublimity We cross the line to drink of mortal wine The stag observes the raven flies above the ravenous wolf kills whom she loves The wine upon our lips begins to clot in trying to become what we are not