Chompin At The Bit

A myriad of treasure wealth and pleasure
Snagged by the Achille’s tendon
Rounded up and Slaughtered for
The Golden Apple of his eye
Not the divine fruits of Her labor
Trust the toss of bones
Fall down ashes fall down
Into preachers’ books and wallets

Tickle me Jesus I’m Irish Pagan and pissed

Poison soaks into ground with crazed fluorescent sound
Fear spills off black canvas seriously taken

Mister Blue Blood make a sound and you’re a dead man
Your odds don’t look good amidst this glow of wires
You picked the wrong time to turn back ‘cuz
I’m just chomping at the bit to fire a few off skyward

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Brendan Clancy

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Artist from New York interested in folklore and cultures.
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