I.
in a flower wreath
and misty autumnal gauze
wielding my
Damascus bladed
rose-bud chainsaw
among gossamer leafed
bumble bee wings &
chrysanthemum splayed ovaries
(planetary harvested)
I implore mercy to my captor
spreading spinal sin upon
an artificial titanium altar
what?, I questioned
he haunted me , that entity
tourmaline & fire opal eyelets
staring amid the sifted bones
of immortal imposters
these are the Memoirs of the Guillotine.
II.
Eros, strike hollow their hearts!
may the counterfeit
depreciate long after
the sun goes dark
bones ‘neath smoky caskets
planted by the unnamed
and armed
viridescent terrestrials
reminiscent of the serpented angels
that prepare the holy-feasted funeral
of our unremembered pasts
in this
fight for the future:
fire of the revolution
light the way
III.
language of the soul
we name ourselves “criminals“
in the grimoire
of the 3 cherry moons
we sacrificed our blood, tears...
along with
deep Earth offerings
of abandoned hematite, cyanide,
& dignity for human kind
we animate the damned
we wave our flags
we march
and
chant
“solidarity”
we have become an
army of the revolution
(In flower wreaths and
misty autumnal gauze)
Social media splash image is artwork by Octavio Quintanilla.
Subscribe to Locust Review for as little as $1 a month.
Submit work to Locust Review by e-mailing us at locust.review@gmail.com.