Anansi

Glistening silk disguises 
the shroud of deceit,
the chorale of composure
walking stately in tune
to the renditions of my failure,
all seemingly flawless
as a mother appears in the eyes
of older fathers

While I shall not fly close by
To be entrapped,
I have been stung by the cries
of unfortunate souls
that now hang as dried remnants
of rebels who dared,
I cling to the shadows
and wait

So drink, spider,
It's what you're here for.

menoh

I am a button pusher. I stir up trouble. It is what I do. I live in the borders between light and dark. I can write about beautiful things, and joy and love, but I find I am more creative when i write about the dark. I love to hold a mirror up to the...

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