the russian witches of the dark steppe pines

russian witches of the dark steppe pines six and naked a bonfire burns the solstice blizzard out snow flakes melt in singing smoke flames blaspheme with black soot choke possesion engine soul pollute gas o'sexorcismo helicopters crashing the nights of blackjack bourbon cowboy jocks who pay to bow down grovel worship and beg pay to pray for a neon whore and fear no evil in this valley or that but rape their cattle with electric prods decapitate with robotic saws and then have the nerve and gall to serve red wine with their veal to their fat overly fed diner guests who come from the desert for a meal of the cactus blooms early this year the babies planted last spring are beginning to ripen their yeild ferment into a sticky paste that we pound into this mortar that we have used in this masonry of this great stone bridge that crosses this great river to the other shore in the darkness groves where the tall pines grow in the cemetary landfill snickering hounds of corpse flesh feasting their kill snapping decaying diseased human rot fat on the bones of discarded desceased flocks of carrion fowl gather still lay nest near the screaming pits of festering flesh pools their young feast on babies carried on plague winds left to cry its song for predators lazily plucked by giant beaks the black purple gore of human remains that flows like a tide on this river meat cold dead relentless the cauldron always boils a regal meal for all who care to dine with the russian witches of the dark steppe pines.... Written February 28th, 2002 © on Feb 27 2002 06:34 PM PST   0 • 10