Lost Oat, Punishable

in the beginning, there was despair

she was transported on an asp ride

urging wide-eyed virgins, “take just a wee sip, dear

and this desert will be transformed into a magic spa ride

and you will catch sea drip of dazzling diamante”

the virgins, deflowered and despondent, walked off the sad pier

conforming to dictums said per ancient histrionic tomes

“it was not I” rasped the serpent

continuing to rape ids, innumerable

in the garden where peas rid honeybees of suckle

fruit of the trees stank, putrid of dire sap

as pride goeth before all falls

cherubs succumbed to ads ripe with falsehoods

veracity rattled as it went to die, rasp whittling bones

beyond the hurtling vengeance the air sped, cyclonic

demonic forces unleashed swords to pare ids from rotten cores

the goddess, astounded, parsed “I alone will survive destruction”

beseeching mistaken provenance, creatures responded “si, padre”

Phoenix, winging aloft, turns an ear, dips and banks

attending to lost inner souls who aspired to redemption

lifts the fallen masses from despondency, praised eloquently

(image: Etsy)