Monday, August 12, 2013

The Hags

Clandestine Whispers

Behind gray, grimacing walls
secrets are told by garbled voices
bones that should be long buried
are unearthed and chewed again

One day tells its tale to another
we can only wish the tale true
but I fear the tale will be twisted
by those crones of wicked tongue

Bitches cannot let well enough alone
and let dogs lie where they sleep
no, they'll take words from innocents
and tar them with their witch's brush

The bastard children of their mendacities
ripen and then putrefy with retelling
frighten all who would not go there
delight crones who birthed the monsters

Why it is that crones must rend fabric
that by itself contained no untruth
seems they find delight in rotten lies
designed for tearing apart old friends

Behind gray, grimacing walls
passed on by puerile hags of Satan
untruths buried with old bones
are unearthed and chewed again