Witchcraft! Poem by Leslie Xavier

The king of Scots had three, no cannibals;
I have two and they love my blood.

For life, the love; no less just more;
the primed fire-place and the warmth,
but heinous black cauldron not an hearth,
the witches potion, they need my flesh.

Gladly my blood, I'm a blind man,
home, sad; I was a beggar then, am now.
Well fed and kill time now;
the final mix, the brother dear.

My sword I slashed a million cuts;
a mad man for angelic smiles.
Happy you were all on that mid-summer sail;
forgotten with ease, till then I sang those hymns.

Fairy lands, magic carpets;
making apes, becoming one.
Forgotten dreams - my own shutter-bug;
while grill was served, the joke's on me.

Down, high on the flu scale,
still no rest, you wanted tales;
next day the spike is thrust;
cursed for life - a wailing heart.

Walking Birnam down coco-bridge;
the fall - Macbeth, your castle aint that strong.
Hurt me now and the shadow grows,
mama, look what they've done to me.

The king of Scots had three, no cannibals;
I have two and they love my blood.