A WOMAN UNKOWN

I live in a land that is hostile to me...
I am darkened by toads of the night
This place with no ladders but leathery snakes
Who strike...then take off into flight
In bigotry corsets where zealots abide
Where they know they can hide
In deceit.

Their faces are round with no upper lip
Red rivers of veins from many a sip
Foul breath in the air is directly induced
By the core of deception dressed up as a truth
In their cunning.

They tell of the Gael but not of the Norse
They speak of a history of fiction and false..
The tongue is the tongue of repetitive mantra
The curtains are drawn on any Cassandra
They will hear nothing that does not agree
With their raggedy vision, their mendacity
And untruths.

Notions are blighted by years of mis-telling
Conviction continues, their confidence swelling
It is a strange blood that is coursing their veins
They will not let go ..they are holding the reins
The milk that has flowed from a lost mother’s breast
Turned sour and clotted..could not manifest
Into being.

Standing mournfully exiled my existence denied

I am pinned to perimeters an outcast outside
In the name of the Pope they are kissing his rings
With insincere smiles they are bent genuflecting
Cast to oblivion by Pikes and their spite
I am tossed into slurry that pit full of shite
Left to rot.

I’m a woman unknown I’ll leave it at that.

Kristine Byrne…Aug 2010