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© John Allan Tate III

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Bedazzlement --©John Allan Tate III 2001
©Tasha 2001

Summyayfre the Chee
came subtly to us
aiming a blinking
rapier while
Summyayfeem, our dear
musical genie,
appeared to be lost on
the Island of Gizo
or Boston where she goes
sometimes in search of rhymes.

Arriva Derci'
Summyayfeem The Chee!

Summyayfeem said,
eem oot nuh een um vuss
nud un nalve ig ate.

Navigate eight degrees
to the left in the
Aurora Borealis
where the more or less
whory Alice sucks
a celestial
deformed phallus
and unless we all
avail ourselves to
the forces of my talisman,
we'll wind up in the
bowels of
the horrible torture palace where
blood spilled forth from chalices
is worn as make up and all hope of
climbing Jacob's Ladder is gone.

Yet our voices still have upturned mouths
to sing with The Chee
under their vertiginous moon

for we are children of
syntactical leaps
jumping across
the fire's tired mind

pausing once
to finger
berry stained
sutra cards

to the tocktocktock
of wooden gongs

and stars rise
like a cathedral over a faraway town.

In the morning we wake
lift our faces
from the warm back
that rocked beneath us
all nite long:

we are
you me my mine.
And in our minds,
we've lived
the rest of our lifes
together
and died, and now
reside in Elysium's
meadow
with our Magical Child,
Esquire, the Ambassador
to Shangri-La..ha ha ha ha

We eat ambrosial
eggs of the
divine peacock
we received
from the
Creator and
goderator
of peace and
ecstasy.

Eternal passion
unrelenting to
anything.

My grassy~man is uxorious to
the core, evoking
Eros who comes
and plucks glorious
judgement from
empyreal height and
casts it down into
my mind.

As Mammon led miners
take gold from the earth,
God takes him
out of the part
of existence seperate
from my heart,
and puts him back
were he belongs.

And we fly
through ethereal skies
unhindered by gravity
or any physical law.