Chanting Women Poem by JHP Poetry

Torches burned around the circle of concubines.
Each one was holding the spice of life.
There was Pleasure, Ecstasy, Orgasmic and so on.
They serenaded in angels cloak. The color of a nun's robe.
Faces were designed in zebra print: a clown colorful tint.
Chanting.... murmurs... Far off in the wandering woods.
They seem unafraid of the living legend, 'Big Foot.'
As the clouds moved like fungus upon the marsh lands;
the fire dispersed among the sky like fireworks.
In cosmic jerks, these women were Chanting... murmurs...
A religious ceremony of sacrifice. Someone would have to die to sin.
I saw her scream as the blood came out of ears.
When hot ashes were thrown upon her skin. For a sinful soul.
There words were wicked imagery. And she ran, diving between seas.
Nobody tried to rescue the apparent body, settling in a trance to the bottom.
A horrid truth. Afterwards, aromas came from pitched tents.
The moaning volume was magnetizing. But there were no men about to see.
Listening for him, where he may be...Voices of arousal speaking tongues; I
began to run further. My temperature a rising fever. I fell feeble.
As my lethargic self sat among the treacherous weeds.
Only to fall asleep in a deep dream.
There, I awakened to find them standing over me. Chanting.... murmurs...