A Tenth Of The Crowd - Excerpt: The Quantum Poets Society:

Upon entrance

to the stage the over-rouged men primp

and Hamlet exorcises his throat 

bleaching

the audience with exoneration's fit for a King

yet- not one woman was a woman.

The shaking wooden stage would weep upon foot

as the critics sharpened their teeth

a tenth of the crowd

would already mourn the impending death

how so, does a man live outside his time?

The Savannah-

a bridge of peering eyes against the curtains

near assassin spies for the Queen

watching the tongues

of the playwrights and the actors.

Her impulse, to watch but avoid.

When does the majesty of power

and its witchery transgress?

We progress

to epitomize then we default, oh Shakespeare

your wooden leg has been casted again

frothing words,

in the underground mind of literature.

How do we attach these chains to liberty?

Just as then, is now

men fall over

these metal links in their starvation.

Drop the clothes

of the actors for they obscure the bride

for those who are unveiled

and have decidedly embarked

on furthering their feminism

as the future awaits the cutting of these chains.

Perhaps, we shall suckle as men-.

or shall we suckle

as children to their ‘mothers’?

The false premise

that men shall covet the whore

and unify sainthood on the wife

creates bloodshed on the streets of London

as puppetry for all.

The stealing of a woman’s identity 

shall return to ignite

and destruct, exhuming the men of lust.

A tenth of the crowd will know the truth.

She- cannot gaze upon the likeness of herself

darning words

to create a wardrobe

that cannot be effectively worn

because the stage cannot manifest retribution

we lie- therefore it can be.

From the grave

I ask the carcass in its bone configuration to tell

that to be beheaded by the truth

is worthy of your franchise.

Tell me Shakespeare- was it a tenth of the crowd?