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ArtistWorm-ward I slump into a slum as sultry and stale As a glass of Aunt Hildegard’s ale And watch the mass of human parts Fling here an arm and there a heart A blobbing mob now swallows flesh While the dance floor crowds with crowds to mesh Heidi Binplimpton spoke thrice of a fear Twice of a cause and once of the cure I feel the eyes rising from ashes of dread As the crowd surfed mob forms horns on its head The worm flicks it’s tongue to taste soft air And banshees dump lyric notes in my ear I flex my dimples as linoleum churns They only hear base, but I see the worm With each beat it’s bloating buck belly Warbles in time like an intricate jelly Exquisitely made in Aldun by Marquee And belts of blue blisters slime round all oozy The writhing mound froths hair of all shades As I stumble back to escape the tirade But the beast will not come down here for me I rumple my hair and let it fall free The machine only chews beauty of the fine And would not ingest dirty clothes like mine Aunt Hildegard’s ale works magical cures On the macabre writhing of wicked-ward worms Old Heidi Binplimton’s worn warning’s well worth The price of stained Levi’s and a rumple-necked shirt For the worm will devour the ravenous wave While I lie in peace, far away from the rave
The poem describes a surreal scene of a chaotic dance floor where a mysterious worm-like creature lurks, with vivid imagery and a sense of impending danger. Themes of fear, beauty, and escape are woven into the narrative, creating a dark and intriguing atmosphere.
