Salome

Salomé


Dead Girl, Blind Girl
wants my head on a plate
dinner for two - the brains are great
Suck the nectar from my head
to feed your need
to bake some bread
Into the oven, ten million go
a tzolkin later, what do you know
A gnosis that grows us
I look, you don't see
a blind angel's aching
to reach out for me
It makes me quite angry
no reason explains
the spiralling vortex
into your chains
Growing pains and nasty stains
I'm powerless to not go in
call it weakness, call it sin
It's the urge that makes you kin
Sex, sun, and metaphor
mother, mistress, goddess, whore
all of you, deep down in me
sentenced to jail by patriarchy
The wisdom of eros, blind to my lust
believing in goodness, flawless in trust
man sees this as weakness
this thing some call grace
while I'd pump the apple
you like face to face
Oh damn it, God damn it!
these fucking hormones
I'm pulled ever downward
with deepening groans
But back to the blind girl
she chases me
I'm afraid of her power
she wants me to see
Her mind and her body
she wants me to fuck
she calls it love
I call it good luck
There's more to this mistress
than mortals can see
she gave me a glimpse
now won't let me be
I need her to pull me
she needs me to please
resisting, persisting,
into Hades

JMJ/1993