The Calls from a lunatic God

The calls from a lunatic God
Scream from the poets page 
This - his mackerel brain- 
In blistering blasts,
Resonates out a switched refrain 
But leaves - in residue-
The flip flap from the leaf - a hiss-
That's newly green 
In this evolving revolving spring. 

And amid this sacred forest
Baccus calls;
He bids for us to slowly suckle 
From his plump wealthy 
Ready breast,
So let us devour without discretion 
Upon this  his beautiful creation; 
For in this sharp shape twisting wind, 
We are but cogs in shaft's
That rise upon shifts that sing 
So we hope to remove these
sharp toothed rats 
That writhe in our heads.

(c) adh2017