Monday, December 21, 2009

Scorn



What did you think?

That succubi never get hormonal, never want to pull the blankets over their heads, never burn the toast?

The Succubus has taken the liberty

Of setting fire to

An old warehouse where yuppies live in lofts...

She watches

As they desperately try to save bottles of their favorite wines

Before the heat makes them explode.


In the morning,

The joy of this gives way,

And she feels melancholy and adrift.

She is the daughter of an incubus and a Russian countess;

She played in the snow with the sables

And slept with the wolves like a feral angel.


She enters other people's dreams

Because her own leave her in pieces, like a paper snowflake--

She never knows, upon waking,

What day it is, or whether she is made of dust or diamonds.


The Succubus has been trying to forget Chloe.

The Succubus has been trying to remember

What it was about that calm-eyed girl

That slew her and left her weak.


Always, she has slipped into love like an unplanned crime,

And always,

She has loved the one who whispers in her ear, "We will never be caught,

And even if we are,

I couldn't care."


It is shaking the ocean-floor stillness of such women

That makes her heart keep beating...

It is knowing they will leave

That makes her burn out the yuppies in their lofts...


She whispers to their blackened skulls

"Poor baby,"

And rocks them like dolls,

All the while scorning them

As she scorns herself

For forgetting that perdition begins always with a kind word

And a dream of a new friend

Looking up and smiling

At sight of her.

__________

21 comments:

Riot Kitty said...

:)

Kay said...

oh, i needed a fix and you never disappoint! the flow is magical

The romantic query letter and the happy-ever-after said...

Hauntingly beautiful and for me so like that painting by Henry Fuseli.
You are brilliant at imagery.
Warmest regards,
Simone.

Secretia said...

Hi, my first visit, I came from Dulce's blog.

I just read your marvelous piece here, it really is outstanding!

Thanks for writing this.

Secretia

Shadow said...

i'm quite in awe of this creature...

Steve E said...

Oh, what utter TRUTH is in these exquisitely arranged words, FireBlossom. What utter humanness is displayed here, the mind of "this" succubus wide open for all to see, in these words:

"It is shaking the ocean-floor stillness of such women

That makes her heart keep beating...

It is knowing they will leave

That makes her burn out the yuppies in their lofts..."

I absolutely LOVE this "story". Thank you!

Vesper said...

Succubi are perfect... :-)
xoxoxo

mac said...

I do like your Succubus.

I would welcome her fire in my wharehouse, though there'll be no wine ;-)

ellen abbott said...

sigh

Mama Zen said...

You know, people are always commenting on my "ocean-floor stillness . . . "

Marvelous, Shay!

Talon said...

Aww, you've made me feel for the poor demon repeating and repenting...

This is so strange, but my kids and I were just talking about succubus yesterday - I kid you not - but in respect of a certain South Park episode. And succubus is defnitely not a word you hear every day.

Tabitha Bird said...

Lovely lovely lovely! Oh your way with words... very nice!

Have a wonderful Christmas :)

Dulce said...

This Succubis Being is unique. I won't take a piece but the whole- if you don't mind.
Thank You!
Love


Dulce
x0x

Joanna Jenkins said...

Wow, just wow! Beautiful writing.
Merry Christmas!
xo

Fireblossom said...

Thank you, everyone!

Cloudia said...

*Clap Clap*

Brava!


Aloha, Friend


Comfort Spiral

Tina Lynn said...

"Because her own leave her in pieces like a paper snowflake..." Wow. Amazing.

T said...

Just wanted to stop by and wish you a very Merry Christmas! Hope to be catching up on blogging and commenting in the next few weeks.

Love ya!

Ekanthapadhikan said...

:) :) :)

Gabriella Moonlight said...

This is again amazing...I love the poetry of the succubus...and her amazing trials in her life.

Shay...thank you for sharing your journey with us...I am so grateful...

love you
gabi

Pouty Lips said...

Is perdition love in this poem? You are brilliant.