Excuse me, there is sun in your eyes
does it scratch?
like the roses erasing my face?
I’ll take on responsibility, one day
the great nothing
In good old times
the adept minds
Wrapped norms into a rhyme
He swung the purse
time spelled a curse
bent her into blank verse
females forbidden- formidable leagues
allowed to watch or touch
to carry away your combat fatigue
to burn the crooked witch on Walpurga's Eve
Here and now, I can be, I can be
corrupted by my mediocrity
You can sit comfortably on me,
I go for a stroll,
under the carpet,
Wearing a ten-foot hat
Are you a tomboy, no?
Let's call you Miss Everything
Le voilà, le voilà
run-of-the-mill ink pink
Now called idiosyncratic roseate
You like the arts too
Charming you are my dear
Now give me your face
We'll put it into stone
„Make it clear on your webs and sites!“
(We don't call it institutionalized)
While the panic crowd grows
Virtual signaling blows
My heart shrinks as I oppose
With my fly-on broom and my pointed hat
I point Satan's claws at the technocrat-
„Witchcraft. Watch it smiles or it casts a spell on you“
Tales of stoney-faced men and their flat affect
As expressive as a jelly donut
Making skin thick as a brick
(Stiff as a stick)
Akin to my fingernails slipping down the chalkboard
Stand up, sit down, hands up, head down
"Call yourself lucky if you're not being liked too much"
Do you mind!
(It makes you wonder who’s whose)
Speaking of history, witchery, pyrrhic victory
Mama, was it ever not preposterous?
Maybe that’s the price for equality
Manifest in other forms of oppression
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Lex Limes.
Published on e-Stories.org on 08/30/2022.
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