On a Fickle-Fickle afternoon
I reached up and pulled down a sickle blade moon
I used it to harvest carbuncle blooms
I had to put back the moon
for it would be night time soon
and after doing so, homebound I zoom.
on returning,I lay upon the lap of my blind sister the carbuncle blooms.
she smiles and sings a song for me as she weaves miracles on her golden loom
I return to my room
and read a love poem Titled: "The marriage of gloom and doom"
and soon
even under the laughter of my mother gettting drunk on ambrosia booze
I manage to fall back and snooze
I then float to the heaven and hell in between
the land of dreams
which is bursting at the seems
with scenes
of heroes and light beams
mansions, golden streets and diamond streams
innocents being saved and fallen angels redeemed
and then BOOM
I am awakened by burning cuts and wounds
That I have inflicted upon myself while harvesting carbuncle blooms
with the sickle blade moon
I soon wrap the wounds
with bandages from my blind sisters loom
I look at the time, and it's a new day and already it's Fickle-Fickle Afternoon.
