Ghost Writing

Ambition renders all friendships fragile

Banquo was my name, while yet I drew breath

Cut down by a traitorous blade was I

Duncan, my honored lord, was likewise slain

Evil ensnared the heart of brave Macbeth

Fleance, my heir, fly through the filthy air

Go, for ghosts must house their hopes in quick hearts

Hovering in the shadows of life’s feast

In restless wandering we pass our days

Justice, sweet panacea, we await

Know that acts, unlike actors, never die

Long must most moan, meandering mutely

Macbeth did strut and fret, his candle brief

Now, his plunge is as certain as my climb

Oh, Macduff, untimely born, timely met!

Pity not this unworthy gentleman

Queens with bloody hands beget no princes

Red and rancorous were her spotted palms

Sisters three, eldritch enchantresses, spoke

Tales of Birnam Wood climbing Dunsinane

Under their wicked will, Macbeth was yoked

Vipers, they bit the Thane of Cawdor’s heart

Weird Sisters, you were right and now are wrong

Xeric, parched as sand was his shrunken soul

You will see no monuments to Macbeth

Ziggurats rise over the honored dead