<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
” The gruel they gave you was a poisoned mash”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cThe gruel they gave you was a poisoned mash. There\u2019s a grim curve to all those bowls of lamps, there is a priestess, wearing round her neck and casts the bones down which she\u2019s set to read. What comes to pass when tears lay salt on salt? laid at the feet of Time. She draws a cord Now you are low in spirits. Plains of wheat, fill all the county of your mind, and shy <\/p>\n <\/p>\n
\nYou sleep until the dreams give way to cramps.
\nThey bind your hands, and clean your mouth with ash.<\/p>\n
\nas if the dead might dream the living\u2019s light,
\nand in this Babylon of human hams<\/p>\n
\na string of stones, her hair in a bound braid.
\nShe sweeps the sand to make an impish lek<\/p>\n
\nYou say, \u2018My future is already told,\u2019
\nor try to, but your lips and tongue are dead.<\/p>\n
\nWhen sorcery usurps a holy word?
\nAn empty purse, a plague, a keen insult<\/p>\n
\nto close the rumen that contains your fate,
\nand ululations fill the Devil\u2019s head.<\/p>\n
\ngolden as lions, surrounding villages
\nwhere plagues mean men can neither reap nor eat,<\/p>\n
\nas voles the stubborn thesis runs: \u2018This strange
\niniquity must end. I will not die.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n