Human Flesh

Bone chips of the flesh-eating lions

from decaying Roman coliseums

lay buried under the Italian city of fountains.

Column fragments, scrolls, and carved capitols

cover the ground too just below top soil.

The ancient particles of history condemn

and commend at once

past civilizations.

The untamed still stalk the earth,

lion-roaring cannibals, wagging their

ill-formed heads with dirty manes on

the streets of every man. Belching

cities with flaming eyes of the night

force feed the jaded monsters from

between the slits of society.

Human flesh is craved.

Fashionistas drape it with silk and satin, wizards

lubricate the skin with creams, and medicine men inject it to

keep it plum and young or alive.

Cannibals devour it, salivate for the

nirvana opium

mixed for the masses

that goes down in effervescent heated gulps.

Burnt, bloody or bare. Tender flesh bitten by demons.

The tastes of post-modern, post-God

society are more refined than the Roman coliseums.

Few raw performances. Film is more cultured

and couth. Whipped up by filthy

rich producer-chefs in super-sized portions.

Get yours today, salty and hot,

on the TV or in a theater close to you.

~original from me