Missionary Stew

Could I interest you toads in a winter snack, steaming and chunky with just enough spice to tantalize the tongue? Herotomost here.  When the call came...midnight, twelve-thirty, all the way from South Africa, Kerry asked if I would be willing to write a collaboration with Shay....AKA Fireblossom. Thats akin to being asked to co-star in a film with Johnny Depp, a little heady and and a whole lot exciting. At first Shay was like...not that guy...anyone but that guy...and I understood.  But after repeated stalker e-mails, texts and unannounced visits, she threw up her hands and decided to make me her charity for the month.  Needless to say, i was filled to the top with joy and more than a little scared. What we came up with is the little ditty below...following her lead, there was no way that I could fail really, cuz she is a really good dancer.  Hope you all enjoy!!!!!!!!

 

                                           Gaarkeuken in Rotterdam / Soup kitchen

 

 

Missionary Stew 

 

 

 

Never say I don't take care of you, honey.

Sit here, and no hats at the table!

Let me wrap my arms around you, sinuously, with an apple in each hand;

holding kindling sticks like rose stems between my teeth,

cut even as hours, and tied with rubber bands.

 

Two miles in on a twelve mile spur

He walked twice engorged with lust and want

Her place at the end of the trail

In passions thicket

Bibles are heavy, but that bangle

In his front pocket was heavier

A token in trade for sinful ways….it’s been so long

She bought him with free wine and a nipple slip

At that bar and grill on State Street proper

God doesn’t smile, Jesus doesn’t frown

But they do have ways of knocking “good” men down

 

Never say that I tease you, honey.

My bed, it is cold but it's wide;

Don't fret about the shrunken heads and tendon-tied bones,

Because now that we're alone,

I remember State Street and your delicious devil smile.

 

Her pastries filled with bloody souls and grape jelly

He knew he was not the first, the others still hung about in smoke

The smell of her freshly showered hair, a hint of Jasmine and whiskey

She kept him two fingers from paradise

By keeping a sharp blade and sharper tongue

Stone ground testicles in a jar

Taste sweet on a frosty January morning, on toast 

He went for the prize early on Christmas night

And she unwrapped him neat

Mary did the deed, Moses gave the law

She dined in glory, on the “chaste” man’s flaw