They say she is a monster
A witch, a sorceress, powerful
Dangerous
Haunting this decrepit place
Since time lazily carved the jagged land
Of her remote kingdom

Serpentine locks writhe about the proud head
Skimming past rounded shoulders
Running down to ample breasts,
A few lurking about the air
Anxious to capture and feed on unfortunate innocents
All alive, electric
Choking the ornaments and cowries lost in them
Crinkled mocking eyes black, bottomless
Look deep beyond
Right into skulls and hearts, souls
Said to glow fire red when angered
Freezing life where it stands
A sneer on cracked lips, heavy with contempt
Remains fixed
Unless forced to retreat upon fit of rage
Into gaping hole that covers a cesspool of hate
Spewing rotten words laced with blasphemies
To which nearby creatures cringe
No fatty rolls as evidence of gluttonous indulgence
Encase her torso, disgusting the love-starved locals
No, but Satan blessed the greenish form with a woman’s number eight
Though layered scales slink lower
Slowly replacing feminine hip and thigh,
Transforming them, joining them in unholiness
At one, stained with the life force
Of countless victims
Animal and man
A prideful display since she is neither nor
And therefore above both

Though the rumor mill spins and roils
The tales of heroes and defeat
She offers derisive snorts and rolling black eyes
What you think, irrelevant
What you believe, drivel
All show proper respect and stay away
And live to see Apollo’s torch again
‘Cept one coming with accusing glass
Revealing the nature of evil to one who proudly embodies it