Hyena Chronicles 2 "Hyena Hooks up with Little Red Riding Hood"

The Hyena Chronicles 2

Hyena Hooks up with Red Riding Hood - a Cautionary Morality Tale, 
Performance Poem, Installation

2012

Stuffled with braggadocio, I swagger and strut.  

Hyena, the hero, your daddy’s worst fear:

I am Beelzebub, Satan, a demon possessed. 

With sibilant grunts, and slavering jaws,

In the middle, between, intermezzo, unchecked,

shrouded in shadows, swashbuckling, engorged,

through systems of flux and infernos of lust

I charge the frontiers, through forests of

wildness and blackness and chaos and storms,

through fat plumes of steam, through mountains, ravines,

through abysses of rock and savannahs of gold.

Godd of Magic, shape-shifting, unstable in form, 

combusting in Limbo, embodying the Night.

I hoover my foes up my sinister snatch: 

pissed on concoctions of cuntbrew and flesh,

I tactically chunder the po-mo rhetoric, conceptual mind-fuck,

Belladonna trip, 

and I hallucinate phantasms of you.

I am the life-lightening, story-spinning machine of dis-ease.

Homunculus of facade, indestructible, sly.

I am crossing the Threshold and

tumbling in free-fall.

Boundary-straddling,

Soul-Stealing psychopomp, 

I dream mythologies of chaos and narratives of worlds 

where flamingoes and frogs are flapping and flipping,

hopping and cursing,

amphibious mutants spouting sordid tales of 

totems and gossip and deeds of misfortune; 

of monstrous dogs guarding Hades’ gates.

I am an Amazon warrior festooned with flowers,

tripping out on the miasma of phantoms;

chanting “Desire before Duty!”;

indulging the gustatory delights of flocks of caterwauling catamites. 

“Cocking arse!” I chant, quivering with derring-do and delight -

greedily slurping ambrosial dreams of dwarves.

Purveyor of bliss from the Emporium of Funk,

bathed by the moon’s liquid light and her lunar chill,

painted silver and glistening I lope down the track

and I hunt and I sniff and I smell you, 

Little Red Riding Hood.