Voices Before Viceroys

the viceroy’s forgotten whose kingdom he guards

he’s looting the lands that he holds

seminal power has been bastardised

by one who’s unworthy and bold

hounding to hell, he pillages grain

grown for the bread of them all

laughs as he does with a hoit and a toit

oh, the viceroy is having a ball

crown on the head though who here has placed

their trust in sceptred high-hand

usurper and charlatan chasing the throne

big chief thinks he’s making a stand

the natives are drumming, the smoke’s on the peaks

warpaint is blue with white cross

viceroy can number the years he has left

who needs an upstart as a boss


Svetlana reposes mysteriously

on couches and cushions of silk

observing the passage of time carefully

sipping on cocktails of milk

mixed with the blood of pilgrims processed

during visits and viced rendezvous

enlarging on life and the secret of youth

in voice laden with honey and dew

plenty of sleep from the harshness of day

a diet of liquid preserve

no more than needed, enough is enough

with some captives held in reserve

twenty or so, going on ninety-two

could be two hundred and five

Svetlana’s not telling though many have begged

and wound up not quite alive

Svetlana reposes so elegantly

batting more than her eyes

her teeth are long gone so she sips through a straw

vampire with sucker surprise

please drink your milk is the lesson she gives

the calcium’s good for your bones

your marrow, my milkshake, donated to live

now, piss off, and leave me alone