04-26-2015, 09:02 PM
Baba Yaga
Phallic mother
I am the forrest,
a death that rots beneath
my leaves
can swallow whole
each mind of man
or gently blow on bone.
Come sit inside to grind our paste,
a cloud across the moon,
see which sister shows her face,
on chicken legs the room will turn,
your path will twist if we conspire,
now ask of me a dream a quest,
shadows run if I desire.
You failed your test I take your flesh
and breathe your Russian smell.
The willow whisps so soft
The wizard blows his horn
All creatures call out loud.
A thousand swarm
are by my side
a Firebird burns behind my eyes,
grasping feathers, hands in flame
through the woods
I rise again.
Phallic mother
I am the forrest,
a death that rots beneath
my leaves
can swallow whole
each mind of man
or gently blow on bone.
Come sit inside to grind our paste,
a cloud across the moon,
see which sister shows her face,
on chicken legs the room will turn,
your path will twist if we conspire,
now ask of me a dream a quest,
shadows run if I desire.
You failed your test I take your flesh
and breathe your Russian smell.
The willow whisps so soft
The wizard blows his horn
All creatures call out loud.
A thousand swarm
are by my side
a Firebird burns behind my eyes,
grasping feathers, hands in flame
through the woods
I rise again.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out