Down around funky town where players play.. body, pockets inside out.. nothing more to say..
When I see anger folks breed.. empathize the pain.. cannot see a sense in time to make pain again..
Cleopatra graceful waving hands rings sparkle jewels.. young, pretty faceful of glands.. manipulating fools..
why should any other matter?.. satisfy her first.. desert soldiers dream of her while they die of thirst..
Did those nobles who found favor of this scented whore.. show her wisdom ways of flat world.. Gods money and war..
Did the woman make a home primal for the male.. 15 centuries hence on Widow Walk crying and pale.. her man shoots cannon Man O’ War defends the crown.. six years under sail is he drowned or in the ground?
Books full of history are now computer files.. real untarnished deal no varnish.. naked with a smile..
Cleopatra storied well.. Prophets, writers said.. she ruled with soft hands as a Queen not counting dead..
Did she have a mirror to question her way?.. did she think or want to know who wrote her living play?
Soldiers unknown to her lay dead with shattered bones.. if to know her is to love her.. she was most alone..
posturing the throne..
She felt.. what she was told she deserved.. she believed.. this did not make what she was told true beyond the moment.. even if one plans before the moment.. any moment can render enormous in context change.. in any situation.. so.. regards ‘Cleopatra’.. historically we are left with the hormones of a teenager and what she believed.. Peace T.