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The Ablation

26 Mar
On a cart, paraded and wheeled
stripped naked and bared unconcealed
bystanders all want to stare,
heads turn to see a freak in a fair

to the shamanic altar is where
priest and priestess begin to prepare
the oblation is shaved of all hair 
with declarations and with dark prayer

Self-respect takes a hit, isolation sure
blood will be let, the conjectured cure.
ceremonial knives meant to impale
the drums begin to pulsate the tale

Serpents drill, pierce into a vein,
tunneling torture shocks the brain
their fiery fangs, biting inside the victim
drinking the pulse - possessing the rhythm

Howling now, flailing like a fighter
agonizing, they bind all the tighter.
incantations are chanted but to no avail
Apollo solicited, but the spells all fail

Drugging potions, by arteries, injected
into a magical world projected
awaking, breathe fire in the chest
cannot tell if blighted or blessed

they said the fiend evaporated,
but may return at a later date.



© Brian Hodgkinson Jr. (aka) Limericist 2007

 
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Posted by on March 26, 2021 in Poetry

 

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