Original Composition Date: Saturday, April 24, 2010
It lasts for a thousand years or more,
is sizzilingly searing
Hot as hell on fire
and bright as purgatory,
when it’s purging
Cook your food here, anyone?
Not on your life.
Maybe it’s the chicken-liver
in me, but
I might get mistaken for a wiener.
Staring into these coals is not
they might take you away,
on a voyage that never ends.
To the netherworld, to be more
Where devils frolic with witches,
and other such phantoms.
Better to douse these coals,
with turpentine from your painting,
set it ablaze for good,
then pick up what ashes.
Mix it in with your paint colours,
get it smoking, tarnished,
smear it on the canvas,
see what has evolved
Devils and monsters appear in the smoke
dancing through vaporous besmirched glomings
playing with nymphs, satyrs, and elves,
Catching death’s scyths with their bare hands,
to liberate the souls, making them handless.
no more painting, without hands,
it’s not often done anyhow else.
Walk across those hot coals
with ashes for footsoles
The devil won’t want you
if you don’t get burned.
Send you upstairs, to fight with