By Elvira

The Bread is Evil
I shall not
I say this prayer
tied to the
No priest         to                     “Hail Mary . . .”
To Death – To Death
I will not tarry
Gone vanity                 and blackened love
the Lady took away
her glove
She of higher rank
turned her head, said frank:
“You varlin
You seeker of Caesar’s
Will never lie with
me for pleasure.
For he has claimed
my virtue                                 to remain
hidden from you,
To him, I’m true!”
What lies these lips
and my heart, the
witch doth
You of golden hair
My sorrow, you don’t hear;

For you, I seek the Royal One’s
And now, from Death there’s no
Chose your weapon, king of Earth
My heart is filled with no Mirth.
So chose you not the rope or axe
the Master Killer’s ugly task
Will strip my skin, and open cry
My words to her, do not lie.

The flames grow higher, to reach the sky
to you, Black Love, I do not lie
the Blade that almost
ended life
will show a martyr’s strife.
You burn my body
not my soul
You’ll crush the bones,
the story told.

And, so I die
as you with King
doth lie:
a lie’s a lie;
we All

April 2016