THAT VOODOO THAT YOU DO...

  Maybe it is my love for a good cigar or the fact that my poison is Stroh Rum, but I find myself quite affectionate toward this Voodoo Loa. My adoration for this religion has imparted upon me great respect for the Dead as well as inspired me to write my first novel, QUERCUS, in 2011.

And thus, without further ado, let me share with you the Loa, Baron Samedi and his footfalls in my new Anthology, BEDEVILMENT, to be released appropriately on June 6th!!

The Baron Digger

He stands towering, fixed.
He beguiles with breath like the pirate’s pant and some rotten essence ‘tween death and un-death and woman and wood.

By the tip of his hat and a hearty laugh strides the tallman in suave guise of raven’s chest and he looks about in wonder of the fire in frenzied yellow dance, yielding the bodies he so adores. Locked on a rolled cigar the putrid pearl that decorates his grin, whiter than the virgin and dove wing, symbolic, and it glistens for corruption.
Howling, the chants of the lesser --- writhing, the sinew of mortality.

Thumping, the skin on the wooden drum binds in spell.
Empty sockets laugh with glee
The Baron’s  gloat below the hangtree
Give him woman, give him fire
Let him copulate upon the pyre

Voodoo kisses, a snake bequeath’d and lied under the top hat; the seat of the soul. He has no face but for bone and yet his pleasure gleams, his rod firmly in hand and off to the gravesite dances he in the moonlight and Death shakes beside him.
Dig, Samedi --- your shovel makes my road for me
Dig, Samedi --- your labour my labour completes.
For in life I am but walking dead and in death will I only come to life.
Dance, Samedi --- my noble lord of heathen’s gate.
Dance, Samedi --- my Vodun king to seal my fate.

My body be praised for its erotic thrall and my soul to roam to the Loa’s call.
I have found my place. I have found my place. Dahomey.