Whispers speak of secrets
Mentioned ... not to be heard
But traveling down the ear
Through a secret thread meant to hurt,
A judgment in pointed words
Pushing their narcissus
with delusion at its root
Refusing to claim any guilt.

Their chin-wag venomous
Digs, push false confines, in  
Name of righteous art, as
Their toads kill ingenuity
With calculated turmoil
In nicknamed allyship,
denying their bigoted
Fear-based duplicitous gossip.

Lies they tell themselves lace
Targeted darts, stabbing
Deep to censure voices
Deemed as enemies of their truth.
Denial is easier
Then facing forgiveness,
So, they lift misaligned swords
Thrusting in righteous defenses.

Quietly, while my pain
Fought understanding, and
Aimed to be understood,
I saw their skewed injurious courts,
Guised as collaborators
loathing artist otherness
As roots they denied in themselves.

The continued hush-hush
Whisperings inure that pain
In opaque gloss veneers
That cannot be breeched, making me 
More resolved in transforming
the ossified rootless truths
into grace with enough-as
enough postures to raze the root of it.