The Lulls Of The Coyote

When the rain comes crashing down

I falter across my platitudes, unencumbered.

Baby dolls dress themselves up in their

Mother’s clothes, walking around in high

Heels; trying to play grownups.

 

They take their own little baby dolls

And become trendsetters who walk

The catwalk into the realm of high

Society.

 

Cosmology offers a dance to them

While taking their little hands;

Swaying them too and fro.

 

Only the whispers in the morning

Call out to the graves of their

Ancestors to awaken the light

Dormant within their souls.

 

These children of the storm

Must carry within their hearts

Fountains of gold in the form

Of liquid light.

 

For it is this liquid light which

Stirs; fighting them every step

Of the way.

 

I walk down icy roads; slipping

And sliding with every step I take,

Trying to muster up enough strength

To hold myself up.

 

The crazed moon is surrounded by

Smokey air.

I can barely see through the fog

You mustered up for me.

 

I cannot fathom the lack of light

You behold in the darkness.

2.

 

 

 

For it is darkness which binds

You to your grave;

Forbidding you to move forward

Into the Holiness which lordly

Light succumbs me in the hours

Of my desert moon’s cry.

 

I’m lifted out of the hole

I’m buried in.

 

I toss the dirt into your eyes.

It burns your flesh; transforming

You into charcoal.

Your nothing but ashes to ashes

And dust to dust; and you go

Back to from which you came.

 

For you’re now burning in the

Fierce pits of Hades’ cauldron.

 

You’re forever embroiled in his

Satiated eyes of purple.

 

For your soul shall continue to

Burn up in the sulking lyre’s of

Your foolish pride which strung

You up by your frigid heart.

 

How could a flamboyant drink

Uplift you when all there is but

Darkness in your cave.

There is no fire burning in your

Heart.

For there is only the stinging from

The bite from Hades’ teeth.

 

Your eyes are milky from walking

Death’s road for so many long a year.

However, I only see truth in the light

Of my spirit from which I walk in my

Concave halls; drowning in my own

Bitterness.

3.

 

 

 

For there is no amber waves of grain

To feed my spirit which hungers for

Compassion from and vengeful heart.

All which exists has been ripped out

Of me; for I’m elongated to rest in

The river’s soul which calls out to

The moon for guidance out of the

Eyes of deception you have become

Many a many a moon ago; before

The tides came marching in.

 

There is no more isolation for me.

For there is only a softness in the

Glow of the light I tread upon.

My heart grows colder in the frosty

Air; yet, I belong to the light burning

Up in the bold sky.

 

This light in question is power within

True heart’s desires.

Sandman sprinkles his dust upon my eyes

To carry me off into the realms of dreams.

It is here I’m transcended by His beams of

Light; forever, burning in the glows of the

Afterlife.

 

My eyes are magnified in the lulls of the

Coyote.

His heart falters; and the rivers run.

© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2016

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