The Magician

He stands there in the dark
a sizzling human spark
he has come to perform for you
a stage taming of the shrew
by sawing a lovely damsel in half
though sawn she wiggles her calf
sex and violence seem to merge
satisfying some primeval urge
that is why we stand and clap
seeing this and the water trap
for to death he seemingly sends the girl
with a wave of baton and moustache twirl
but then he brings her back
with speed of lightning crack.
Saw, whip, torture seems fun
underneath the shot of circus gun
there our dark passions come out to play
sending into shadows shades of gray
but when the spot light shines and curtains part
we realize why magic is a seductive art
for one moment frozen in time
thanatos and eros dance sublime
and two urges
civility submerges
go down in the depths with the girl in slit dress
the magician does things we wouldn't confess
so that's why we keep coming back
to watch her emerge from a torturer's rack.

-The Magician
a poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Thursday evening, September 1st 2011.