Gaiety

There is gaiety
'mongst the laity
for the season is a spinnin'.

The priest can't hold
his pride or peace
amid such wanton sinnin'.

"Shame, shame,"
he thunders, "flames
shall burn you all to cinder!"

"Promise?" cried a bawdy wench.
"I'll need the heat
come winter."

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

#Rage

all my
incense
smells like
anger

a burning car
a burning cross

mantras
muddle
on my
tongue

peace, a language
lost