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Victory smokes & black tiger ambrosia (Free verse) by Don-Quixote The rumors are true;
our rogue torch kissed the sky
'n whispered adieu
with its scarlet flame sigh.
Tuesdays spent with sibyl
foretold that even tigers will purr;
a killers sly smile appears subtle
eclipsing the wicked saboteur.
A rejected opaline rose choked
wilting on a citrus veranda;
I watched it die and smoked
as petals veiled the sycamore floor.
We've been rollin down groove street
smokin on victory 'n o.d.ing
on fresh injections of complacency
and bitter vinegar defeat.
Sunday suns blaze humid
on this dirt road of loathing
that I travel upon, intrepid-
murderous red lips cursing;
drinking black ambrosia
groovin to the blue-collar blues
'n rollin sublime nimbus spliffs.
Night tigers softly purr
as we growl in victory;
the wicked saboteurs
grinning in sweet revery
of our preys vinegar defeat.
Fangs kiss bloody flesh
'n whisper sweet adieu
with my fervid devil sigh;
the last kiss before you die.
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