Blinkered Beloved Blood

“You’ll burn in hell!” my blood usually yells.
To me, and to anyone who cares to listen.
Some care not, but he ventures anyway.
“You’ll burn in hell; you aren’t like me!”

“My truth, the only truthful truth, is too much for you;
Way too hallowed for your pagan soul to bear.”
My blood excels at the art of nonsensical talk—pity.
“You’ll burn in hell; you aren’t like me!”

“I’ll pray for you always. Oh yes, I’ll pray.
Over a glass of wine with my Savior;
While we walk on water and eat infinite fish.
I’ll pray my Devil’s hell isn’t too hot for you.
Amen!”

“When she tries to feed on her own crispy flesh,”
My blood once told a stranger.
“I’ll look down from my heaven and be sad.
She’ll burn in hell; she isn’t like me.”

“Come to me. Yes, you, intolerant blood of mine!
There is no dogma in my witchy heart, but there is love.
Come drunk, drenched, drowned… in devout delusions.
Yes, I’ll still love you;
My wine drinking, fish eating, blinkered beloved blood.”

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5 comments:

  1. You go girl! There is a saying I love..."Never teach a pig to sing. It only frustrates the pig and pisses you off." There are a lot of folks out there who will never learn to sing. Keep on writing, sweet Magaly!

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