The vvitch

Absolute authenticity
It painstakingly creates
A really honest feeling
Through candlelight one waits
For daylight to relieve the pulse
Of the Natural world out there
That releases all its energy
For everyone to share

The darkness though is prevalent
In a household where we see
An obedience to the living church
And it’s testimony
A reverence and conformity
A devoutness through and through
Their Puritanism background
Makes them devotee’s too

Banished from their plantation
From the rigors of it all
With his wife and his 5 children
He answers another’s call

And the ride into the sunset
Till they find a hamlet where
They can all bed down and make a life
And prove that since they care

Life will be acceptable
They can grow their own
They can hunt and fish and work
Their pasture can be sown

The percussive music
leads the mind to feel
It conjures up that darkness
that is altogether real
The forest on the outskirts of their farm it’s there
We see
Hopefully life will improve
Because it has to be

Better than the plantation
With their faith and working out
Really they were mindful
And not in any doubt

The crops they planted failed them though
A bolt in their armoury
So trapping seemed to be the thing
Next to hunting of the free

To the eating of fruits and berries
But in fact it all was sparse
And they also lost their infant
In a die that had been cast

It seemed a wolf had taken her
Which went against the grain
For such a pious family
How could their fortunes wane

If God was really up there
It clearly should be so
That they were doing what that could
And were always in the flow

But wane they did and their avid thoughts
Such separatism seemed
To be drawn in negativity
Which couldn’t be redeemed

The crops were non existent
The traps they laid were too
Hunting was a disaster
What really could they do

Their prayers not being answered
And the family under fire
And the children picked off one by one
In circumstances dire

Caleb clearly tempted
by the sexual overtures
Of the female body
and it’s partial lures
Succumbing to the ladies
of the forest so to say
Found their path and followed it
and died where he did lay

Some irreverence was surfacing
From out of the austere
The sacred solemn sacrosanct
That spread its share of fear
Was there justification
For the religious trails
The children drew on witchy tales
Causing a breakaway
There wasn’t enough Balance
So everyone did pay

Being mindful didn’t resonate
It was down to God for he
And only he could help them
Out of their adversity
Eternal peace their constant hope
But it was not to be

Caleb had been lured away
To the spirit of the night
on buxom breasts the child’s cheek rests
Under the pale moonlight

Bewitched perhaps bedazzled
Lost and gone for sure
The father than did build his cell
Nailed up without a door

To stay a night with the goat ones
And the twins and Thomasin
Who the twins had said was a wild witch
with the meaning wearing thin

In the morning the wooden cells

Was ruptured and broken through
And the Black goat charged out
Angrily
Their father black and blue

Took the horns into his chest
And again till he did fall
And all the logs he had chopped up
Fell on him one and all

The mother she came after Thomasin
About to slay
Strange
Ly this poor winsome lass
Who managed to stay

Alive in all the mayhem
For the family now were gone
And only Thomason survived
Really to underpin

The family and we watched her
On her naked jaunt
walking towards a coven
Of ladies who Could haunt

And the fiery embers
produced this hoary tale

With direction from a genius
And the casting of a trail
Around this darkly novel
Where the story just could sail

Robert Eggers wrapped it nicely
As everyone felt cursed

It was a valid story
it’s memory will stay
In the cloisters and in the turrets
Where ghosts and
Witches play

Malevolent behaviour
With antipathy in tow
With disfavour and Disaffection
And how it all does grow

A lack of understanding
The perusing of sin
The odious and unlovable
Belief that cannot win

Such a closeness to The period
And played out as a whole
cobbled together and dishonour
Of every single soul

The film needs watching
Once or twice
To pick out the enmity
The belligerence of each moment
And how each casualty

Rises up and signifies
The story and the pain
Of being far from balanced
And a little more insane

Thrown in for certain measure
In a fantasy and wealth
In a prism of derision
And a goodly amount of stealth

Between the poem one and two
A dream was had by me
Returning home I slept awhile
But something I did see
Were blisters on my inner thigh
No reason to be there
And this morning they were bruises
That I am able to share

The night was full of darkness
In my bed the blood did flow
My hands were dripping wet with it
Reality made me go
Three times to the bathroom
To wash away it all
To see the cuts I saw them
Imaginations call

Was it the vvitch that created this
Within my mind and thought
The obscenity of celluloid
Had mindfulness then sought
A blood letting a sharing
I am not about to say
How the sub conscious mind retaliates
On any given day

Folk tales may have inspired the film
But the witch me thinks lost much
From the total lack of understanding
And, therefore as such
Could feel the pangs of fable
Could feel misjudged and sad
For there is much positivity
That I wanted to add

She is cast as some horrendous beast
When in point of fact she be
An honourable and beautiful
Natural entity
Curiously calming
Beautifully endowed
I can’t abide the ugliness
Whereby she be deflowered

She is a healing women
A wizard of the soul
She is passionate with naturalness
That overcomes her role
Her wisdom fortune ancient
Is thrilling and alive
She should never be put down dear friends
She must be seen to survive

She truly is no vampire
no sinful crone not least
To me she is an angel
Who cares for man and beast