A Lesson for This Sunday

The growing idleness of summer grass
With its frail kites of furious butterflies
Requests the lemonade of simple praise
In scansion gentler than my hammock swings
And rituals no more upsetting than a
Black maid shaking linen as she sings
The plain notes of some Protestant hosanna—
Since I lie idling from the thought in things—

Or so they should, until I hear the cries
Of two small children hunting yellow wings,
Who break my Sabbath with the thought of sin.
Brother and sister, with a common pin,
Frowning like serious lepidopterists.
The little surgeon pierces the thin eyes.
Crouched on plump haunches, as a mantis prays
She shrieks to eviscerate its abdomen.
The lesson is the same. The maid removes
Both prodigies from their interest in science.
The girl, in lemon frock, begins to scream
As the maimed, teetering thing attempts its flight.
She is herself a thing of summery light,
Frail as a flower in this blue August air,
Not marked for some late grief that cannot speak.

The mind swings inward on itself in fear
Swayed towards nausea from each normal sign.
Heredity of cruelty everywhere,
And everywhere the frocks of summer torn,
The long look back to see where choice is born,
As summer grass sways to the scythe's design

The word By Coach Collins

She told me stolen waters taste so sweet,
and bread eaten in secret feels so pleasant,
it was all in my sub-conscience little did i know,
that her kind of passengers hit while running not sawing a seed,
she was the one every mans delight,
the one who walks around swinging her hips all to be displayed
to them with favor for her fruit was vain
and game is what she had for me oh men,
deceitful cunning ways so arrogant
turned my patience to anxiety to sleepless nights
with no humility her eyes showed no love
but sharp rays of hate penetrate through my heart
left me half dead left me bleeding
bleeding vengeance bitterness and other infirmities,
pain scars cause before with her i felt so sure,the devil is a lyre now i found my cure
                        
As cold water to a thirsty soul so as a word of assurance
i implored know i know honor is more vital than my heart deeds
i stand as a man look how the word made me