Clanking Slop
Voodoo and Blackmail: A Poem
In shadows deep where secrets weave,
A voodoo priestess takes her leave,
With dolls of wax and pins of dread,
She spins a web where silence bled.
A whispered chant, a cursed refrain,
Stitches souls to endless pain,
Each thread a tale, each knot a lie,
A blackmail spell beneath the sky.
The pinprick stings, a heart’s control,
A photo seized, a stolen soul,
“Speak not,” she hums, “or fate will bind,
Your name in darkness, lost, confined.”
From Haiti’s drums to modern art,
The magic grips the tender heart,
A lock of hair, a whispered plea,
Bends will to serve the puppet’s glee.
The elite tremble, power swayed,
By voodoo’s dance, their sins displayed,
A kompromat rite, both old and new,
Where fear and ritual brew the brew.
Yet in the night, the spirit cries,
A truth that breaks through veiled disguise,
For voodoo’s power, though dark it seems,
Reflects the blackmail of our dreams.