UGLY 
 
  
  
Who was the one to clad the Truth in white?  
She dwells - shy, taciturn - in numbers, ages,  
still photographs and screaming pages,  
coy, shine her bloody teeth. She's grinning wide.  
  
  
Continuity of sense, of time.  
Bland whispering of grass.  
Concealing ashes, signs,  
the charred bones of Truth from trusting eyes.  
Deep smile the sculls.  
Who was that fool to sing  
of Truth and Beauty in the same old lines?  
Old lies!  
A true spell must be cast  
or we shall die -   
- and still you lie... 
  
 you ugly mumbling thing  
 pedantically blind  
 you, deaf to words and cries alike  
 a fly in Heaven's eye --- 
  
your tongue is crooked.  
As for your soul!..  
You must  
return  
to dust.