The spider crept upon the dame
Who danced upon the ground
And lost within her own refrain
Did hear no spider sounds,
Those Webs of Wonder – gossamer
Those hook-ed, crook-ed fangs
Did salivate to see her writhe
And thus he did abound
With many plannings high and low
For spiders stake all plots
The weather never truly tells
It could be cold or hot;
Yet eyes aplenty, fractured too
May see what we do not
When spiders creep on hairy limbs
To tie us all in knots,
I bet you wonder what’s my point?
The moral of this tale
I do not say – for is there such
A Heaven kept in hell?
I know how though, and know it well
For spider showed me this
He creeps and leaps while good men sleep
To weave his traps complete;
So if you hear him as he stalks
Then listen at his loom
For there he measures out those things
That most will not assume,
And if you see him you will watch
Him seep upon his prey
Warning never those he hunts (haunts?)
No executions stayed
For, you see
The spider crept upon the dame
Who danced upon the ground
It is a very ancient game
That we do all allow…
#Hollywood #society #sexcrime #poem #culture
* Someone posted this image about Hollywood. It made me think back on something and inspired this poem. But maybe I’m not really talking about spiders, or Hollywood. Maybe I’m talking about something else entirely… but probably also Hollywood.
Wyrdwend 