Close-mouthed Clowns


The jesters in Hades's court are the best of their trade.
Cynical, yet funny,
Hilarious and with great flout they speak,
Words a-flamed with a venomous heat.
They doth not know the hatred they speak.
Even now-as they sit in hell's very mouth-are they ignorant.

"He is to be hated for he is darker than I."
Chuckling sickly, one fool adds with a sneer, "hated for eternity."
And maybe from the frozen inferno hr shall be.
"But in God's house, I shall be given high seat."
The black man sees and continues on his way.
Others plead his case, but he just nods in thanks,
Not caring for acceptance in this place.

Another joins his brother and boasts his own addition,
"You say you were ravaged, brought to the very brink of destruction.
What have you to show for it? Mere bruises?
Falling on the sidewalk could come to the same conclusion!"
Chortling loudly, he loses breath in his ill delight-
But the young maiden in front of him merely lowers her head and sighs.
She turns away, losing the last of her pride, but hers is the Kingdom.

The third, not to be outdone, stomps loudly and cheers.
"What have you but words, my siblings?
Why not slit her throat yourself, instead of forcing her own hand slowly?"
His brother, unhappy with this responded quickly,
"And why not you, yourself?
Can you not steal yourself enough for the act of murder?
The third responded just as quickly, without swallowing even slowly,
"Aye, I do."

And with his left hand slit the lady's throat, including no hesitation.
Her eyes rolled back in her head and closed.
She thanked God for the sweetness of death.
And with her last breath, left hell and its cackling demons behind.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741