Slowly, sun sets, burning horizon,
skylight fingers bend toward earth,
jungle heat with slinky fluidity
finds my heart's dead coals.
Inside the place that houses me,
I smoke the orgasmic black
within pipe made of skull.
An ebony glace through my open door...
There, a lascivious artifact
in such revealing presence,
as a newly opened lilac,
it's a beauty casting a voluptuous spell
like heat from fire.
Here, in this land, I sought the shadows,
seraching for the final portal,
instead, upon me comes Hastini.
Woman, who emanates from elemental realms,
tells me:
Satisfy your deep desire.
Purify, kindle the innner heat,
light cleansing sexual fire.
When the oblation is poured, all
uncertainty is washed away.
She is called the "Elephant Woman."
Beauty in the gross,
her gait is heavy, yet she moves
with supple sway.
I'm in the dark of night,
still, in a verdant realm,
her whispers plea,
"love Mother Nature
through her bundant womb...."
My vein has been cut,
as I sit within my room.
The poem was written in Africa and published in Eldritch Tales. It eventually found its way on to my album "Dark Butterfly," with a musical mixing of African and Western music. If I may be allowed some ego- boo here, we have taken the album's material (originally, only releashed on LP and cassette tape) and it will be re-released in either November or December this year on CD.
If it is of any interest, when I was writing this in Africa, my mind kept thinking of this plant that Smith kept that whenever it bloosomed it relesed this awful stench, ha ha?