Veiled Sun

Hollowed eyes, red rapt despair

Bleeding whiskers, steady glare

Be not afraid of bloodshot eyes

A pence to see the heaven’s prize.

For many years a pilgrim’s road

Hither and yon with no abode

’Til cast aside by crimson wake

A whippoor’s shrill beside a lake.

O devil’s song, inflame the womb

A writhing woe cast in her tomb

Retching cries silenced with soil

Fire draped hand, trembling toil. 

Chastened hearth o’er tarry dread

But quickened ghost in smoky red

Devil’s ambrosia, the veiled sun

A dark mistress now on her run.

Sun though masked by starry night

Inflames a dream of hellish flight

And kisses a man when unaware

The taste of lime he cannot share.

For lonesome is the devil’s price

A lifetime sold for one entice 

A chance to see her ghost in time

And live again a wretched crime.

For every man is his own coven

Many screams in one small oven

His mind mad heavens all his own

’Til death so reaps what she has sown.

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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