The shaman of anti culture.
Fractured ox jaw
Beating on stretch'ed drums.
Wolf countenanced headdresses and
Bells and iron trinkets swish from tie-dye stripped cloaks.
Orphan to the world and
Distilled soul'ed;
Spitting alcohol over a bonfire.
(The snake being charmed is also the snake-charmer.)
Mystical uttering of
Revelations lingering
In an incandescent shell.

Swarthy pinning trapped to rooms as
Decoration;
Those idols of style and combustion.
Where is the Prometheus of our age?
We command nature to bypass us on
Our way to the meeting
Where we ask the snow to melt as
It's falling
And the Oceans became too full of wreckage
To host its own kin.
What will the generations yet to come say of this day, and this
Night?
Maybe we are more bruised in our understanding
Than any Neanderthal
Who had survived those Winter's for us;
Just so we could feign away the elements...