Panacea - A Coastal Ghost Story in the Florida Backwoods

Slam Poetry Concerning Panacea Florida
Music copyright Bensound
www.sunshinesatellite.com/2018...
Lyrics:
All across the burning sky
Storming clouds go bounding by
Where waves like ants go marching on
To tunes of terns in squawking song
And grasses cut up from the mud
Where turtles bask to warm their blood
Frogs are rumbling, the bayou sighs
And crickets chant crescendo cries
The moon is yawning saline smile
On the coastline mile by mile
Towards the brackish backwoods crossing
Away from the endless ocean chopping
The tide is moving and exposing
The rottenness of the decomposing
Skinny men stirring stew
Nasty amphetamine laced witches brew
And gators dream of a Jurassic time
A lost paradise left behind
Buried under divine deluge
That antediluvian wildlife refuge
Old docks dropped by creeping vines
Everything’s made beautiful in its time
All these beach roads are devoured
Wave by wave, hour by hour
All these tiny grains of sand
Run like an hourglass in the hand
Till the only things that remain
Are fluid things that thrive on change
Things that strengthen in their pain
And do not drown in falling rain
For future’s sure as rising sun
Who in his joy his course he runs
All the passion of the past
Is like the gale rushing fast
It cannot be forced into a form
It just moves on like a storm
For all the flesh that is consumed
There is a soul that is renewed
Blood it drips from hunter’s knives
And every death brings forth lives
Earth is restless with its evil
It’s breaking ground in upheaval
The dying seeds as they fall
Seem so quiet and so small
As up from compost breaking forth
They rise and flower and give birth
I am as old as this world
But I am also still a little girl
I am the snake who is a dove
Up from death I rise above
Like a child I enter in
Faith my eyes, I can begin
I am a shadow in moonlight
The will-o-wisp burst into flight
Under quiet starlit eyes
Lightning unfurls it’s sailing sighs
The thunder calls tide away home
Out from the marshes where it roamed
Revealing the pocked and muddied ground
Where tiny fiddlers make a bubbly sounds
Creation yearns anticipation
Beneath spiraling constellations
I am sleeping in a tree
Far above the coyote
Who snapping with his bloody maw
Vomits curses from his jaw
He howls for moon and drinks its shine
The beast who has been left behind
The doors of hell are locked from inside
No one is blocked from what they seek to find
Lightning bugs outline the breeze
I am concealed in these leaves
Under rose resurrection fern
My heart is peaceful and it burns
Wind is weaving wings for rest
My only home is wilderness.
My lover the freedom of the air
That blows and tangles and pulls my hair.
And on these zephyrs I loose my dreams
Like toy boats on mountain streams
That float away from sinking sound
Toward Artemis’ happy hunting ground