by Fariday on Tue May 21, 2013 3:12 am
The teeth, the whip and riding crop
The twisted screaming til you drop
Cocophonous and maddening
Will ne'er another shrew's voice bring
To he who face her, we salute
For you are now her next tribute
The glare and sneering, burning eyes
The iron will to torch the skies
Dare ye woo her? Dare ye try?
Why then I try her, so says I
I'll face her everlasting rage
And twist it to a new poem's page
I'll see her writhing, kicking fit
And raise a thought she won't forget
I'll kill her slowly, steadily
I'll kill with kindness, don't you see?
My ground unbroken, resolute
Even though I face the boot...
A bloody nose or two are nigh
The price should I not keep head high
So come and get me, little miss
I'll put your rage to dear remiss
And when my softer, gentler rage
Has put you in -my- poem's page
You'll see how kindness maims and kills
In the iron battle of the wills
For I can wait, while you cannot
For shrew I'll tame or man I"m not
----
Dammit, Tehya... One of my favorite shakespearean plays... Belariathised...
Let the blood flow,
Let the tears fall,
Open your tired eyes
And realize that you're just too late.