More ghosts whispered
in these hallowed halls,
the living lost their voices
amongst alcoves.
Honey waxed lips
smeared ideas
of domination
upon eagled pride.
Three sisters cackled
as Macbeth, fell in the dark,
found Llywellyn
in his jars
blamed their mad
perimenopousal wives
for their destiny changing vaginas.
And there they go again,
below
a heap of human integrity
beer balled and bellyfulled
pissing against voices
recorded in stone
same story
It’s all her fault.
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I’m all for the ladies, it ain’t her fault around my neck of the woods. Bam~~~
Behind every man is a strong woman Anthony 😉