Roses Were Burned, Cupid Was Murdered, God Wept

Newspapers worldwide reported how
They went out in the streets,
A drunken orgy high on chocolate
Breaking bottles of cheap red
Wine and storming out of
Too-expensive restaurants
Women ripping off Victoria’s
Secrets like a wild animal
Rummaging through a campsite
Men whose exhalations of relief
Rivaled the winds of Katrina.

How Cupid’s blood cried red when
He was murdered with his own
Bow and arrow, that he’d fallen as
Ungracefully from above as had
Lucifer, that they had grabbed his
Body and dragged it through every
Town center until everyone had
Seen the entangled mass first hand.

But they went too far when they
Lit roses afire like torches, for
Roses belong to God’s creation.
And so he wept to extinguish the hate.

Originally written
17 February 2007


A penguin marched
But wished like hell
Oh what a sight to see
the earth from above.
How happy I would be
If only I could take wing.

And a woman lived alone
But wished like hell
Oh a fairy-tale story
blessed in wedded bliss.
And how happy I could be
if only a man loved me.

Originally written
6 February 2007