Paroles Flee, thou matadors! Mewithoutyou

Flee, thou matadors!

You the coverclouds in a midnight sky
I, a little snowflake waxwing high
Erring on the delicate side:
Who can mark the hour our soul sick friendships die?
MARIA [the pious]:
Ever felt like Noah on an overcast day?
David, take down your harp and play
FERDINAND:
You hatched your little plan when the first fell through?
The wicked in you ran, though none pursued!
MARIA:
You’re toeing a precarious line
[momentary taste of almost unmediated mind]
Silk shirt for a sackcloth king---
David, take down your harp and sing!
FERDINAND:
Clockwork drama in a Josten’s ring
Ever on the verge of catastrophe…

King of Spain, Queen of Portugal

MARIA [the mad]:
I ran to the sea but the sea wouldn’t hide me
The oceans agree there was no one to hide!
Will my story give way to the weight of its gravity?
~self-appointed-cop-spokesman-of-the-end-times~
FERDINAND [to the smell of blood]:
Knockneed step and a bent-back spine
No sense of direction besides...
MARIA [unfazed]:
Patterns in the clouds over lake Cascade!
Message in the sounds of the Air Force planes!
[offers claims on an extravagant scale in
Elaborate (if laminated poster board) display about chemtrails]
Tinky’s harp on the wall next to Janis Joplin!
FERDINAND [intoxicated with purple]:
Man, I coulda sworn that I saw
The cosmos in the livestock straw...
MARIA [neither pious nor deranged]:
Early cartography sea creature dragon and all?

King of Spain, our songs proclaim
That you’re Queen of Portugal
King of Spain, our prayers in vain
Till you’re Queen of Portugal
Owls now sail toward seas of Africa
flee, thou matadors!
Courts of dandelions
Wars of Oranges have conquered us!