A Second Sting

Woke up
to smell the roses

cut myself
upon stem thorns
sharpened
protective preservation
selfishness

bleeding blood bleeding life
life sustaining streams dripping

sap risen barbs sharpen
hungering foliage continuance

the scent of sweet roses
is but an alluring amorous bait.

Lilies
colourless purchased puritans

also have genetically
attained a deadened smell
in morgue slab meat
mannequin laid out funeral parlours

fat rolled choice cigars
baked overdone luscious juicy joints

will not
rise a redeemed Lazaus
to dropp dead a second time.

Lilies
are Victorian gowns

neck tight collars
sudden yellow tongued
mesmeric eulogies
gossiping trumpeting

bee buzzing sermons
curtained days death knelled

behold new prone lay figure
subjugated judgments silently abound.

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
John 12: 1-2. “Accordingly Jesus, six days before the Passover, arrived at Bethnay, where Lazarus was whom Jesus had risen up from the dead. Therefore they spread an evening meal for him there, and Martha was ministering, but Lazarus was one of those reclining at the table.”

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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