Whores of Hedge Money

Underground kings in the highest towers
Now made of glass instead of the stone
The red mortar remains
None can ever remove such stains.

They’ve tired of the minstrel and bard
Their wives and concubines no longer wrapped
In lamb, ham, gravy and lard
Kings lust for blood
Not drops or mouthfuls but in a great flood.

She longs to disappear, so he will notice her.
He longs for them to disappear
Yet wishes them to remain here
To wage war,
That outlasts sword and spear
Out of which is forged an idea
That all of which they hold dear
Is worth fighting for if they really care.

So the skirmishes continue
Little feudal quarrels we live to rue
Most on the hedge jumping over whichever edge
To the side that has the advantage.
The blockades and stockades
What is his soul to you if it were not for prices and merchandises?
What is her body to you but another brick?
You don’t have to be such a…

Louella Mahabir
August 19th.


~ by louella001 on August 20, 2016.

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