An Ode in May


Twas a bleak Thursday surrounding your arrival

Your emergence shrouded in the secrecy that has formed you

The first of a quartet, to the world a joy and beauty to behold

But indeed, a tare sown among the wheat

Let them grow altogether so as not to harm the wheat

The Master had proclaimed, none can trifle with that


With a gilt edged environment, your skills you honed

In the ivory towers guarded by the lions, you found your true world

Like a chameleon, blending with kith and kin

But with the fury of the adder, you struck with venom in your tail

Like Moses, shipped out for a better future

But to your own destruction, you chose to sail


With the perfume of cool waters to mask your stench

You flitted thru, a swathe of destruction in your wake

Taking both the learned and the learners as captives

A beguiling smile; your trademark. Your words like d peals of a broken bell

To many of your victims, they hearkened to their death with the peals

In a city smeared by coal, your chambers were far reaching

Alas a juvenile you were tagged but in error they tagged


As a ship manned by pirates, with all but stole goods

In your wake, many were drawn. What a charming vessel they said

And yet your very bowels bore the stench of death

Foisted off as quickly as possible, to rid themselves of more pain

Your harbour masters, dreaded your impending disaster

Your lying words spun like a web, strung along by the masts from South Africa

Into the ears of many, they went.  Captives and your spoils of war for your gloating


Thrust into a union, your harbour masters hastened to do

An impending disaster waiting to happen

Oh that the warnings of the star were but heeded, a word spoken in truth

“Doth thou think you know her? A spinning cork, she stands for nothing!”

The very seed nursed in you for a decade less one, thou hath despised

A gift and an inheritance from on High, thou hath smeared withbile and forsook

Back to the streets, you went. Charming to many, beguiling to all

There was nothing to offer, a pig with golden rings in its snout

But to the muck, you chose to return. At home with the filth, engorged with the spill of strange men


‘Queen of the streets’ would do you injustice for in secrecy you wore your crown

Words as poison dripping from your lips, tainting every ear that u whispered into

4score&7 was your filthy score, an ARVist you have become

Twice painting your easel of life at the stroke of 7, undeterred in your exploits

Hounded by the good, you hurled filth at them all.

You declared that the waters of adultery was your resting place, and so be it

An end in itself as declared by you, no-one can save you. No one will

You have made your bed of thorns, and lay on it you shall

On scented sheets, strange men shall conquer you till there’s nothing left


Yours is a tale of woe, of a choice born

Thou hath contendeth with Him who none contends with

Salvation yet He offers you, but your harbour master consoles you

Naming Saint Maria as your patron saint, an amusing concept indeed

Your walls shall fall, and the stench behind them in full glare revealed

There’s nothing left for you, queen of the streets

And like Jezebel, the dogs await you below.

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