a voodoo man stole my voice
in a dream last night
he didn't like my cigarettes
he stood over me with
otherworldly powers
and all i could do was stare
helplessly
at the spanish moss draped to frame
my imminent death
and every scream
from every other dream
clotted in my throat
dressed in his sunday best
the voodoo man stole my voice
i became envious of the swamp
and its song
and prayed for a jazz funeral
black umbrellas and polished brass
and i'll bury my thoughts because
the voodoo man stole my voice.
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dr john would be proud....i like this one. its different from your other ones. even though its a little scary is also some what playful in a half-smile sort of way.
ReplyDeleteI like. "clotted in my throat". Very cool.
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