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IN GUISE OF MADAME BOVARY
In the grip of doom ‘neath missionary moons
She wept at crypts designed by those miscreants
Who wove tales of Hell that beguiled her there
To pages of mages, Sadomasochristian prudes in sooth
Follow the drifter, cemetery shifters
With a rose in hand, blacker than the god-damned
Portents of love that have turn a blind eye
To the loneliness at the graves of her beautiful kings
She remembers a time
When the stars loved her so
Now the scars remind her
Of the thorn’s viscous bite
In guise of Madame Bovary
And her fanciful queries
Love and death were one in the same
Dancing within the candle’s flame
In guise of Madame Bovary
In crepuscule quarries
Love and death just like guilt and shame
Dancing within the candle’s flame
She doth long to forget
Those dull nights of her life
She loves the way that God
Gives her the devil’s lust
Warm throes when midnight lovers cum in pale light
Blank verse in curse scribed before the raven’s hearse
Trials of parts of hearts told tales Grimm with dark
Mourned moistened thighs poisoned, she has found everything pure and full
Romance the creeper, defying the reaper
Her garden of stone, faceless corpses and bones
The dead stand erect forgotten in time
Carrion wait in vespers to honor her spiteful name
She was like Madame Bovary
The Sabbath, quite contrary
Virtue and sin, one in the same
Like shadows dancing for the flame
She was like Madame Bovary
Libertine, Mother Mary
Venom dripped from cunted shame
Sheep blood fucking for the flame
The menstrual discharge is exquisite
On the shaft of the holy crucifix
Jesus came when his name was moaned by her
Infernal lips of heretical love
Venus enthralled her as Aphrodite
Drove a stake in the chest of Philistines
From tragic Draculas to Frankensteins
Here at the edge of her reality
Victorian estates, various altered quakes
From bulls to wolves and satyrs enchant the gulf
Where Tristan’s cold state of failure’s trysts and
Gravestone rites, bitter nights, Romeos and Romeros invoke
Hauntings of poets reciting their laments
Casting her fortune, in love with the exhumed
Ghosts that never pass beyond the veil
Of tears where her heart beats where ravens sing “Nevermore”
She was like Madame Bovary
The Sabbath, quite contrary
Virtue and sin, one in the same
Like shadows dancing for the flame
She was like Madame Bovary
Libertine, Mother Mary
Venom dripped from cunted shame
Sheep blood fucking for the flame
In guise of Madame Bovary
And her fanciful queries
Love and death were one in the same
Dancing within the candle’s flame
In guise of Madame Bovary
In crepuscule quarries
Love and death just like guilt and shame
Dancing within the candle’s flame
(c) 2017 Frank Green
She wept at crypts designed by those miscreants
Who wove tales of Hell that beguiled her there
To pages of mages, Sadomasochristian prudes in sooth
Follow the drifter, cemetery shifters
With a rose in hand, blacker than the god-damned
Portents of love that have turn a blind eye
To the loneliness at the graves of her beautiful kings
She remembers a time
When the stars loved her so
Now the scars remind her
Of the thorn’s viscous bite
In guise of Madame Bovary
And her fanciful queries
Love and death were one in the same
Dancing within the candle’s flame
In guise of Madame Bovary
In crepuscule quarries
Love and death just like guilt and shame
Dancing within the candle’s flame
She doth long to forget
Those dull nights of her life
She loves the way that God
Gives her the devil’s lust
Warm throes when midnight lovers cum in pale light
Blank verse in curse scribed before the raven’s hearse
Trials of parts of hearts told tales Grimm with dark
Mourned moistened thighs poisoned, she has found everything pure and full
Romance the creeper, defying the reaper
Her garden of stone, faceless corpses and bones
The dead stand erect forgotten in time
Carrion wait in vespers to honor her spiteful name
She was like Madame Bovary
The Sabbath, quite contrary
Virtue and sin, one in the same
Like shadows dancing for the flame
She was like Madame Bovary
Libertine, Mother Mary
Venom dripped from cunted shame
Sheep blood fucking for the flame
The menstrual discharge is exquisite
On the shaft of the holy crucifix
Jesus came when his name was moaned by her
Infernal lips of heretical love
Venus enthralled her as Aphrodite
Drove a stake in the chest of Philistines
From tragic Draculas to Frankensteins
Here at the edge of her reality
Victorian estates, various altered quakes
From bulls to wolves and satyrs enchant the gulf
Where Tristan’s cold state of failure’s trysts and
Gravestone rites, bitter nights, Romeos and Romeros invoke
Hauntings of poets reciting their laments
Casting her fortune, in love with the exhumed
Ghosts that never pass beyond the veil
Of tears where her heart beats where ravens sing “Nevermore”
She was like Madame Bovary
The Sabbath, quite contrary
Virtue and sin, one in the same
Like shadows dancing for the flame
She was like Madame Bovary
Libertine, Mother Mary
Venom dripped from cunted shame
Sheep blood fucking for the flame
In guise of Madame Bovary
And her fanciful queries
Love and death were one in the same
Dancing within the candle’s flame
In guise of Madame Bovary
In crepuscule quarries
Love and death just like guilt and shame
Dancing within the candle’s flame
(c) 2017 Frank Green
Published 28th Aug 2017
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