You, the Dead, Defer to Me
You, the dead, defer to me.
In the Shining Ones my seeds are sown.
Though you lesser daimones get your bone
I reverse our piety.
I compel you to agree.
Goddess gets chablis and quiche lorraine.
You the dead I charm with sugarcane.
Suck on this and work for me.
We, the living, will be free.
Revolution shoots a pheromone.
Catch the scent of it the breeze has blown.
We're no feckless bourgeoisie.
Hid within the dust we see
All your ancient lives I now entrain
Crack them with a whip of hurricane
Crack the castle to debris.
You, the future, will be free.
Make of me your eager stepping-stone.
Rip my will to shreds and write your own.
Stir the scraps into your tea.
Sip, and plot your destiny.
Todd Jackson
has published in Snakeskin Poetry Ezine; in Circe's Cauldron: Pagan Poems and Tales of Magic and Witchcraft published by Biblioteca Alexandrina; in The Road Not Taken: A Journal of Formal Poetry; in ActiveMuse; and in The Q Gallery: Art of the Quarantine.