“LUCIA AT THE DOOR.” a poem for: Sunday, September 22, 2019.
Lucia is like The Trojan Horse, a-waiting at YOUR door;
She’s SILENT! (pause)
Then, after we wheel HER in, there is a whole lot more:
For, suddenly, Dear Lucia starts talking talking UP A STORM,
And slaying all our valiant warriors, withInOurWalls,
Lucia’s like a vampire-ess; sheWillNever enter in,
Until she gets an invitation, and SUDDENLyWE’RE BIT WITH SIN.
She NOW engorges her beautiful deathliness, consuming all we are,
Leaving us quite listless and running for some bar.
Well, AT THE BAR, we drown our sorrows [in a glass] toGetsomething in our belly;
Vamp-i-ires, they try to deplete all of our jam and jelly.
Lucia is like a feral cat, waiting for the door (to be) ajar,
And SUDDENLY she jumps right in and is IN CHARGE forever m[o]ar[e];
SHE TAKES HER QUEENLY POSITION, being VERY proper and prim,
And feral cat or not, My Friends, she’ll NOW indulge her every whim.
ForShe’llIndulgeHERSELF in nefarious ways, all right;
She’ll meow and scamper scratch&sniff way into the night,
And in the morning, WE’RE TIRED AND SORE,
While Lucia snores deeply saying: “You’re such a bore,
And should be so grateful too for having me here to STAY,
WITH YOU.” She’s a: SNEAK ATTACK VAMPIRE, who finds a way,
To destroy you COMPLETELY FROM “THE INSIDE.”
“LUCIA” means “light,” but “Evil?” likes to hide,
Just like Good Ol’ Lucifer behind a brilliant disguise;
THERE MIGHT BE LIGHT, but [moral] You should be wise:
“NOT ALL THAT GLIMMERS or SHIMMERS, MY FRIEND,
IS GOLD OR OF VALUE,” youMight see before The End;
(You’ll see that) Folks like Lucia are as clever as can be.
“Perhaps just a truly simple gal is the right one forTheLikesOfMe.” The Mystic Poet.