Sharp Words with cutting edge truth make redundant even Sheffield Steel and Samurai Swords,
by Countess Sigrid von Galen
Let's go back to pen and paper,
Never mind the endless dripping wax and taper,
archived under many a Vatican, Templar, abused politicial and Freemason seal!
Let's do that, what monopoly playing thinktanks in right action lack,
and let evildoers pay even long lost tax and reveal, where they their blackhole money
from a dodgy deal stack, and revoke their immunity to pay lives' cost
of their ritual knives;
and make the culprits show and loose face outside their members clubs and honeypot
space, and expose the hypocrits on stages and pulpits, who cash in on impunity
and under abuse of authority!
As at stake is everywhere in the world national security!
Never mind that truth has been even historically and is being treated like
a commodity!
Time for a Merlin the Ladies in the lake's curses to themselves
to bind and to listen to the willow's wind, when a gentle breeze suddenly rages
and throws out of bookshelves dried out poisonous roses,
and from his house everybody, who on humanity cheats,
as the truth all odds and artificial barriers of time and restrictions of space
even in an unknown place beats! Ask John Donne, and take to task
the archbishops under their mask, who hold expense accounts in dubious
bars and keep the traditional recipe of poison in the mass wine cask that
their cohorts pour into the Judas cup from their flask...
Lies do kill! And the truth is going around and touches ground,
and does in evildoers with their own evil returning to them
fear if their own shadows instill! Think twice, before you drink
from a cup of fake kindness of one, who threw at you more than a stone
and who spied on you even with a drone or in the pew,
and who secretly plays creator of a clone, and who stays behind alone
to have a word with a debator, as it might be yet another repentance
faker and all cash taker desperate to silence witnesses under
the codename 'annihilator'.
And not everybody is frail, who walks on a stick or with rolator,
as it couldbe a tail or a sniper with a gun in the shape and size
even of a nun, who wants to bang into human flesh on a cross
a nine inch nail!
Unplug the canal and the rivers, and you find the parts of many
a life's loss, on which silent stayed even more cab drivers...
Nothing new, as it turns out many a survivor the same face over
and again of secret assassins and the latters' mortal sins and kins
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