In the Realm of the Lizard King – Cycle One: Day Nine

Come in, come in
The doors are open, let’s begin,  
We thrift-store nerds in art school rags,  
Who live our shadow lives in veils  
And worship at the sound of night.  
 
 
The nerds, the freaks,  
The masked sublime,  
Who seek in art the great divide,  
Who seek and rage in dancing flight,  
Our songs dis-splayed on broken chords.    
 
Our split and twisted serpent forks  
That sample in the crannies’ nooks  
And spires, the nature of despair.    
Like newly whelped Verlaines, Rimbauds,  
And Ginsburgs seeking new ensnares.  
 
Awake, Awake!  
From foam floor sheets,  
From trystings’ spend,  
Awkened in our loves pretend.    
Awake and lick your leavings clean,  
For dance floors wait,  
For art bands sing,  
To sweating throb and waking scream  
So public in our nerd-cool romp.  
 
And at its heart, the Lizard King –  
In death still sings his roadhouse songs,  
And calls to stoned immaculate.  
Now to our knees,  
Now to our knees,  
In commune at the Lizard’s fount,  
To swallow whole America,  
To swallow, whole America  
To SWALLOW whole, America  
Amen  
 
9/30  
 
Words: 172  
Unique Words: 118  
 
#NaPoWriMo2019  
 
NaPoGloPoWriMo2019